


What's Your Damage?

by TwelveMenStood



Category: Heathers (1988), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heathers, Angst, Eddie as Veronica, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sex, Inspired by the heathers film and musical, Multi, Murder, Richie as JD, Richie has terrible parents, Smoking, Suprise Pennywise is actually gonna be a part of this universe, bet you didn't see that coming, they're in high school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-03-20 22:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13727112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwelveMenStood/pseuds/TwelveMenStood
Summary: After coming across and helping a heavily injured Henry Bowers, Eddie Kaspbrak quite suddenly finds himself invited into the most intimidating and powerful clique at his high school. The downside of the situation is that he can't stand the people in it.He is more than ready to resign to his new life and wait it out until college until he comes across a mysterious dark horse with a love for cracking jokes and breaking rules - though inconveniently for Eddie, one of those rules just so happens to be first-degree murder.My Heathers/IT AU, set in the universe of the 2017 movie





	1. It's a Beautiful Freakin' Day

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> -Richie is not a part of the Losers club in this AU but I promise there will be plenty of him.  
> -Primarily set in the universe of the 2017 movie; however particular details have been taken from the book for inspiration.  
> -This is my first fanwork ever posed online so I would really appreciate feedback <3

If anyone were to ask Eddie Kaspbrak where the events leading up to the incident in June of 1989 ultimately began, the boy would most logically point them towards a day five months prior.  

What a perfectly average day it was. An overcast afternoon in January, overhead trees naked and trembling wildly in their anticipation of future events as Eddie trotted down the familiar Neibolt Street away from the trainyards and towards his home. His home where his mother would be waiting with an affectionate kiss, an inoffensive meal and a half-drained orange pill bottle. Eddie hated the rotted and dilapidated street, from the barren tree branches reaching down like great talons to the eerie yet unmistakable presence of the great dark manor that threatened with gnashing teeth to swallow him whole each day he passed; however it was familiar and it marked his way home so the boy supposed he could tolerate it. 

Eddie himself seemed like a stark contrast to the aged and neglected street he was currently navigating through some sort of biological autopilot. The boy was noticeably short for his age, generous estimates falling in at around 5’1 to 5’3, and carried a thin belt of lingering puppy fat around his hips where he wore his bulging fanny pack. The fanny pack was heavy, stuffed full of various bottles and boxes and bandages any normal 15-year-old would look bizarre in carrying so close and so often. But Eddie Kaspbrak was not a normal 15-year-old. This was not a revelation for anyone that had been with the boy for any length of time. His neat dark brown hair bounced up and down in front of his even darker doe-eyes and milky soft childish face as he made his way along the street. Indeed, it was days like today where Eddie Kaspbrak appeared to be the pinnacle of youth. A stroke of selective colour in the monochrome pallet of Neibolt street. 

However today it seemed that Eddie wasn’t the only colour the street’s painter had reluctantly applied to his work as, out of the corner of his eye, Eddie caught a glimpse of a new colour. A frightening colour that brought an end to Eddie’s pleasant thoughts of his home and how he was going to spend his evening there. A savage and all too familiar colour that froze his feet to the uneven pavement. A colour that brought to mind the thick, hot flow of fresh blood. 

He slowly turned his head towards the source of the colour that had caught his eye, hoping wistfully that it was merely a lost piece of clothing or a food wrapper discarded in the bushes, that this was only his imagination playing tricks on his distracted mind. These hopes were shattered as soon as he saw the human figure sprawled on the steps of Neibolt house, limbs limp as those of a ragdoll discarded by an angered child. He felt his lungs seize up, his throat retreating to the size of a pin hole from the paralysing dread flooding his small body. He started to wheeze, his entire body moving in time with his breathing, as he reached for his aspirator. His trembling hands fumbled with the zip on his fanny pack but his eyes never left the human body that was becoming more and more real to him as the sinking feeling embedded deep into his stomach. He drew his aspirator as if it were a defensive shield, holding it close to his body. He inserted the familiar plastic into his mouth. One puff. Two puffs.

Once Eddie had regained his ability to breathe sufficiently, he silently agreed with himself that he should check the body. He didn’t know if it was his caring nature, morbid curiosity or simple childish stupidity, he just knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest easy for the rest of the evening if he just carried on his way as if he hadn’t seen the bleeding corpse on Neibolt Street. He approached the body with a slow caution, his feet fighting against his brain as he willed himself to get closer still. As he got closer to the corpse, his eyes bulged further than the fanny pack around his hips, mouth hanging open in a perfect O of shock. The light brown mullet and sleeveless t-shirt on the body carried a messy significance in Eddie’s head. Fragmented and terrifying memories of the countless beatings he had received at the hands of this motionless figure. The body belonged to Henry Bowers. 

What then occurred in Eddie’s mind was a form of disorganised mental gymnastics. Why was he here? How badly was he hurt? Was he dead?  

_ Oh fuck, what if he was dead? _

Would anyone care if he was? But the thought that kept returning to Eddie’s mind as often as a nightmarish reoccurring dream: should Eddie help the boy that had caused him so much trauma? He figured he should try. It was the most human thing to do in these situations, especially seeing as Eddie had the ability to help more often than not. 

He gradually lowered himself to get a closer look, mind somehow more at ease around the body now that it had been identified (although Eddie knew full well this was a ridiculous conclusion to settle on. Henry Bowers was as unpleasant as a corpse and twice as dangerous - even with all the bacteria festering inside a dead person). 

He reached out an unstable hand to turn the boy over - to discover the source of the bleeding - but the voice of his mother stopped the hand dead. 

_ Don’t touch that corpse, Eddie! _ It cried hysterically.  _ His blood with give you HIV! _

His hand recoiled quickly, wincing at the panicked tone of the voice. 

'Quit it, Ma,' he muttered out loud, hoping the physical existence of his own voice would be enough to drown out the ghost voice of his mother that so often haunted him. However the boy’s focus on the phantom voice took his attention away from Henry Bowers, meaning he didn’t notice the older boy’s gunmetal blue eyes shoot open at the sound of the Eddie’s voice. 

Eddie screamed, a splintering, feminine shriek, as Henry’s blood-soaked hand inflicted its inhuman death grip on his right ankle. Henry’s regularly predatory eyes met those of a rabbit in the headlights of a truck and, although he would never truly believe it, Eddie swore he saw raw, instinctive fear in the bully’s eyes. Henry’s pale and dry lips cracked apart, enticing blood from his shattered nose to once again start flowing fresh red tracks down his face. 

'...H...’elp...me...' 

Eddie could not believe the words that met his ears. Had Henry Bowers just asked him for help? He shook his head, forcing himself out of his dumbfounded trance. 

'Yuh-Yeah...Sure...Sh-ure I can help...' he whispered softly. For an unknown reason, he felt the need to comfort the injured boy with gentle words. He zipped open the bursting pocket of his fanny pack in preparation. '...Where do you hurt?' 

Bowers gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he braced himself. He pushed his hand against the rough wooden stairs underneath, turning over onto his back. His breath came out fast and short as he turned, in obvious pain. The blood from his nose started flowing quicker from the motions. Eddie watched, his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth and his brow furrowed. He did feel some sort of sympathy for the awful person before him. It was as if he were helping a stranger rather than an enemy. 

Now Henry was on his back, Eddie had a full view of the source of the boy’s pain and what he saw brought a wave of nausea over him. He stumbled from his crouching position, putting out a hand to ensure he didn’t fall completely and readjusting his body into a more stable sitting position, legs folded over one another. 

There was a deep gash across Henry’s abdomen at least seven inches in length.  

_ And at least a centimetre deep, _ Eddie took a mental note.  _ That means it’s real bad. _

The wound was surrounded by softer cuts but those didn’t concern Eddie. Not when he knew full well that the boy could at best pass out from a wound like the one spluttering blood down the steps of Neibolt house and at worst he could- 

Eddie didn’t want to deal with the worst, so he pushed it out of his mind almost as soon as it had come up. Finding a corpse was one thing. Being a witness to that corpse’s death was another. He fumbled his hands into his fanny pack, working fast despite his shaking. He removed an adhesive dressing, some purell brand sanitising gel (for himself), an alcohol-based antiseptic cream, an alcohol-based antiseptic wipe and, after a slight moment of deliberation, a small roll of medical tape. After thought, he then also moved to shrug off his neglected backpack, retrieving his untouched water bottle from within. 

'I can get it clean and put on a dressing,' Eddie explained softly to Henry, squirting a heavy blob of sanitising gel onto his unsteady hand and rubbing it against the other. 'But after you really gotta get to the mergency room.' 

Henry didn’t reply, lips parted slightly as he watched the small, fragile boy work. He was finding it difficult to steady his swimming thoughts through his sea of stinging sensations and throbbing pain, yet even he could realise the bizarre nature of the situation. He too found it strange that the scrawny, wheezing fag he so often wailed on would choose, out of his own free will, to help him. Not that he was complaining, he supposed. 

Eddie made quick work on patching up the boy’s stomach, the adhesive dressing topping the antiseptic cream, which had come after the antiseptic wipe, which had succeeded a thorough wash in the form of Eddie’s would-be drinking water. Eddie let out a sigh, securing the dressing with soft medical tape before sitting back on his feet. '...That should hold...Can you get to the mergency room, Hen - urr - Bowers?' He queried, thinking better of using the boy’s first name. 

'...’elp me up, g’rly boy,' Bowers sniffed, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand as he blatantly avoided Eddie’s question. 

Eddie let out a soft “oh” as the harsh nickname brought him crashing back to reality. He scrambled to his feet, abandoning his supplies on the floor in favour of not angering Henry Bowers. Even in his current state, Eddie was certain the boy still had the ability to inflict significant damage. He held out his right hand which Henry immediately snapped up in his own, wincing as he tried to support the larger boy’s weight when Henry began to get to his feet. 

Henry stood tall, pulling his hand fiercely away from Eddie’s and wiping it underneath his bleeding nose once more. Eddie bit down on his bottom lip again, flooding with concern and fear. 

'...I...urm...I really think you should go see a professional doctor...' 

Henry’s eyes shot daggers at the boy, causing Eddie to shrink back in anticipation of a blow to the face. His eyes locked shut as if to say: _ ‘Sorry, Bowers! Eddie is closed for business today. Please try again tomorrow.’ _

'...Nah...' Henry muttered finally. His tone was neutral and calm which Eddie found oddly unsettling. He opened his eyes, staring up at Bowers as Bowers stared right back. 'Nah, ‘ll be fine...I app’eciate this, Wheezy.' Eddie felt Henry looking him up and down, closing his eyes again in discomfort. '...Don’t f’get your shit...' 

When Eddie next found the courage to open his eyes, he could see Henry already halfway back down the street, moving as quickly as he could away from the house. Eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and fell to his knees - partially out of mental exhaustion after the previous encounter and partially in order to quickly gather up his supplies strewn across the front steps of Neibolt house. 

\--- --- --- 

By the time Eddie was approaching the old Derry school building the next day, his encounter with Henry Bowers had almost completely slipped his mind. He had enjoyed his evening following his return home. His mother had decided to make him a treat - a personal sized cheese pizza - and then he had spent the rest of his night reading the new comics Bill had let him borrow just for a few days on top of his bedsheets, memories of Bowers getting more and more vague with each turn of a page. He couldn’t wait to talk to Bill about what had happened in the comics, and what they both theorised would happen next in the story, his own ideas buzzing in his head as he meandered towards the school entrance. 

That day, Eddie considered, was abnormally pleasant for early January. The sun was bright overhead and the sky was a soft baby blue, tumbled clouds spread out across like stretched cotton wool balls. The temperature would be edging across onto unpleasant if it weren’t for the cool breeze which caused the tree branches to creak quietly, still bare from the previous autumn. Comparing the previous day’s weather to the sun Eddie was currently basking in, he was almost sure they had been stolen from two polar opposite seasons. 

Due to the heat, Eddie had been brave enough to dig up his summer clothes from the back of his drawers that morning. He was dressed in his favourite pair of black shorts - a bright rainbow decal sewn down either side - topped with his mother’s favourite pastel pink polo shirt. She always insisted that the shirt made Eddie look very sensible and delicate - the two things she treasured most in her son. His plain white sneakers looked even brighter than they had the previous day, the sunlight reflecting off of them and almost making them appear to shine. Eddie loved being able to wear his summer clothes. They brought him pleasant memories of spending time with his friends - a mismatched group of rejects Bowers liked to refer to as the Losers club - building dams and swimming in the quarry together under the summer sun. Those memories ignited within him again that morning as he gazed up at the blue skies above Derry, and Eddie Kaspbrak had smiled brighter than the nostalgic sun overhead. 

'Hey! Girly boy!' 

The voice snapped Eddie out of his daydreams as he looked around frantically for the source. He had heard that voice before. That voice was never a good sign. Eddie often imagined that it would be a voice belonging to a vicious dog if dogs ever learned to talk as people did like he used to see on cartoons. 

The source of the voice wasn’t hard to find. However it did not belong to an aggressive dog (although often it became hard to tell the difference between the two), the voice had come from Henry Bowers. 

Eddie’s face grew pale and his expression was a picture of dread as everything that had happened yesterday came crashing through his head like a stampede of rabid wild animals. Eddie knew that he hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not by his standards, but he had known Bowers for long enough to expect that the beast of a boy would find some excuse - any excuse - to turn it against Eddie in a way that would at best land him in the emergency room. 

_ You touched me with your faggot hands yesterday, Wheezy, _ the demented voice of an imagined Henry Bowers echoed inside his skull.  _ And everyone knows the only way to get the touch of a faggot off you is to wash yourself in that faggot’s blood! _

The thoughts were bizarre and nightmarish, Eddie knew that, yet he still wouldn’t put it past Bowers to echo those exact words back at him right then and there. 

Henry Bowers’ outfit seemed to suggest the boy hadn’t even noticed the sun. He was wearing his signature pink biker jacket with the eagle sewn onto the back, with thick jeans and engineer boots. The jacket looked ridiculous, everybody knew that. Everybody also knew what had happened to the first poor boy to tell Bowers how ridiculous he looked and so Henry continued to wear the jacket with pride and no opposition. He continued to yell at Eddie, his voice so loud and shattering the smaller boy couldn’t even pretend to miss it. 

'Get your faggot ass over here!' 

_ Shit _ Eddie thought grimly, face that of a child caught by his parents sneaking away after lights out.  _ Oh shit, oh fuck. _

He felt his feet moving him towards Henry Bowers, independent of his brain which found itself too busy with a fallen wasps nest of thoughts. 

Bowers terrified Eddie, always had, and as with most terrifying beasts, Eddie found it hard to trust that all the boy wanted was a friendly conversation. 

Before his head had a chance to catch up, Eddie’s feet had planted him in front of Henry Bowers - a freshly sprouted daisy blocked from the sun by a great monstrous tree. 

'...Huh-hey, Bowers...' Eddie stuttered, wincing about how much he sounded like his best friend Bill. Maybe Henry would start calling him “Stuttering Eddie." 'D-do you feel any better?' 

Eddie made a mental note of the great duffle bag laying dead beside Henry’s leg. 

_ It’s full of weapons _ Eddie thought fretfully.  _ Knives and belts and rope and great medieval swords and guns - oh FUCK what if they had guns? _ His eyes grew wide at the terrifying prospect. 

'What the fuck are you wearing, fag?' This was a new voice that made Eddie turn towards Victor Criss, the slender, scowling boy’s light blonde cowlick shining white in the sunlight. 

'...My clothes?' Eddie tried quietly. 'I-It was hot outside so I thought-' 

'How do you expect to been seen around us dressed like a fucking fag pride mascot?' Criss spat, cutting off Eddie mid-sentence. Henry Bowers was staring Eddie down intently, but Eddie noticed strangely it was not with anger or hate. It was with a kind of deep concentration. 

_ Wait. What? _ Eddie’s brow furrowed as he turned Victor Criss’ words over and over again in his head.  _ Seen around them? _

'...What do you...?' Eddie began, trailing off as his brain continued trying to make sense of the comment. It was as if Victor Criss had been speaking some foreign language. 

'I’m throwing you a fucking bone, twinkle toes,' Henry hissed quietly as some form of explanation. 'You did me good yesterday. If you keep doing good, we can get you far. Got that?' 

Eddie was struck with numbing shock. 

_ What the fuck was happening? _

His mouth opened and closed in surprise as he looked from Victor Criss to Belch Huggins before going back to Henry Bowers. '...urm...' 

'But of course we gotta clean you up a bit first,' Criss scowled. 'You look like you could get fucked over by a first grader.' 

Bowers crouched down and unzipped the duffle bag which was filled with not with weapons, but with clothes. Eddie was so past what he considered to be regular that he barely reacted. 

It wasn’t until Bowers shoved one of the items of clothing into Eddie’s arms he was taken off pause, beginning to process that the boys were serious. 

He examined the item in his arms as if it were an alien object. It was a light blue biker jacket, an eagle identical to Henry’s own stitched to the back and the word “Wheezy” embroidered across the right breast in black thread. He looked back at Henry to see the boy watching expectantly with the same intense concentration in his eyes. Eddie ran his tongue across his dry lips and pulled the jacket on over his polo. It drowned the boy, yet Henry didn’t seem to care as Eddie watched the boy do something he never thought he was capable of genuinely doing. Henry Bowers was smiling down at him. 

\--- --- --- 

'I can’t do this!' Eddie was hysterical, pacing back and forth in front of the rest of the Losers club. He was clinging white-knuckled to his aspirator, chest rising and falling as he breathed far too quickly. He was still wearing the blue jacket, his hands barely poking out from the sleeves. 

'Eddie, just think this through,' came Beverly Marsh’s sturdy voice through his mess of thoughts. 'This could be a great opportunity for you. For us.' 

'How could it, Beverly?' Eddie asked far louder than intended. 'How? It’s probably some sick joke. And even if it isn’t, why the fuck would I want to spend time with that asshole? A-and what will my mom think of this jacket? This isn’t the kind of thing she likes me wearing!' 

Eddie was rambling again. He had a habit of running his mouth when he was scared and the Losers knew that. 

'Uh-Eh-Eh-Eddie,' came the stuttering voice of Bill Denbrough. 'If yuh-you join Bowers’ gang, you muh-might be able to stop him wailing on us so muh-much.' Eddie knew Bill was right, of course Bill was right, but that didn’t mean Eddie liked the idea.

‘Besides...What do you think he’ll do if you say no? Shake your hand?” Ben Hanscom added grimly.

'I’m really not comfortable with this,' Eddie wheezed, pulling his aspirator to his mouth for the 10th time that conversation. 'What if he’s tricking me? What if he beats the shit out of me, Bill? My mom would freak.' 

'Well...just give it a go,' soothed the gentle voice of Mike Hanlon, the quiet boy speaking up for the first time in their whole conversation. 'Give it a week and see how things turn out. We’ll keep an eye and jump in if it gets messy.' 

Eddie stopped pacing, locking eyes with Mike before glancing at each of his friends in turn - Mike then Bill then Beverly then Ben then Stanley and finally back to Mike. 

'...You guys promise you won’t let him kick my teeth in if I do this?' 

'We’ll try our best,' Stan offered. 

'Of course, Eddie,' Beverly promised, seeing the flicker of panic Stan’s statement had brought onto Eddie’s face. 'We’ll be right there.' 

Eddie stared at the ground between his feet, frowning as if reading a difficult math problem chalked onto the pavement. He, Eddie Kaspbrak, joining Bowers’ gang of demented chimpanzees? He couldn’t, could he? He didn’t fit in with them. He was a loser. He was a freak. Wheezy. Girly boy. Fag.  _ Fag. _

'...Okay,' Eddie whispered finally, weak voice cracking. 'I’ll do it. I’ll join Bowers. But only for a week.' 

And Eddie did just that. Yet, much to his dismay, it was far from being just a week. 


	2. His Name is Richie Tozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being under Henry's control for three laborious months, Eddie meets a breath of fresh air for the first time - but definitely not the last. 
> 
> His name is Richie Tozier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of Richie Tozier!  
> This chapter was done pretty quick but I won't guarantee that every chapter will come this quick haha
> 
> The Heathers references are a bit on the nose in this chapter but I hope you enjoy it.  
> In case there's any confusion, Henry is Chandler, Patrick is Duke and Victor is McNamara.

The boy sitting in the front passenger seat of Reginald Huggins' trans am was not Eddie Kaspbrak.

On the surface that statement seems ridiculous. The boy certainly looked like Eddie. He had the same dark hair as Eddie. The same brown doe-eyes. The same pale milk skin and distinctive voice. However anyone who really knew the boy would be able to tell that the one sat in the car couldn't get further from who Eddie Kaspbrak used to be.

The puppy fat had been shed from his figure, his stomach now flat and his cheekbones and jaw a little more prevalent on his rounded face. The hair that was usually combed neatly by his mother each morning now was let to run wild, soft waves forming. The youthful fire in his wide eyes had flickered down to a dim glow, leaving the dark pits looking exhausted and endless. The boy looked entirely run down.

Despite how easy it would be to point out the numerous physical alterations, they were nothing in comparison to how the boy had changed mentally. Part of the reason for his sunken, defeated eyes was due to the fact the boy truly was sunken and defeated. He had been trained and scolded like a disobedient new puppy, beaten down until he gave up on maintaining any of his lost dignity.

It had started with that damn jacket. Eddie hated the jacket. The day after it was given to him, he had opted to accidentally leave it in his wardrobe. Besides, it was still far too hot for a leather jacket. It was this mistake that helped him realise that Henry truly was serious about Eddie’s “new image.”

Henry and his gang had been out to get Eddie all day; arguably more aggressive and violent than he usually was around the publicity of the other students. They yelled their usual arsenal of swears and names openly and loud enough so all could hear. Victor Criss grabbed and pulled on Eddie’s short hair when they passed each other. Patrick slapped his ass with a rough palm and called him a fag. Henry pushed him onto the hard floor of the corridor every opportunity he got.

Eddie hadn't felt safe until he got home where he immediately proceeded to pull his leather jacket on, curl up under his bedsheets and question to himself how the fuck he was going to get out of Henry's firing line.

However the following day when Eddie reluctantly made his way into school wearing his light blue jacket, Henry had been just as civil as he had been the day after the incident at Neibolt. It wouldn't take a genius to see the correlation between Henry's mood and the presence of that god-awful jacket. Eddie himself realised it almost immediately, leading to his decision to wear the jacket to school every day from now on for his own safety.

 

_That was how Eddie lost his freedom._

 

Eddie had been more than ready to leave after that week as he had planned previously. It hadn't exactly occurred to him that Henry would want to make him stay much longer.

 _‘Where are you sneaking off to, Wheezy?’_ Henry had asked as Eddie made his way towards the bike rack the following Monday morning. Eddie still wore his leather jacket - he was too afraid to remove it.

 _‘Urm...The bike rack,’_ he spoke slowly, careful with his words. ‘ _That's usually where I meet my friends in the morning._ ’

 _‘Funny. I don't remember ever kicking around those racks,’_ Henry's eyes were steel, fixed on Eddie with unwavering intensity.

 _‘Yuh-you're not my friend, Henry,’_ Eddie mumbled, looking down to avoid the intense gaze. ‘ _God knows you'd never want that. I-I'm just gonna go back to the Losers club and you'll never have to deal with me ah-again…’_

 _‘Don't be so fucking dense, Kasprak. You think I'd put so much effort into a someone as pathetic as you if I didn't give a shit?’_ He snapped. The aggressive tone made Eddie recoil in shock. ‘ _As long as you wear that jacket, I own you. And as soon as you're not wearing it, you're fucking dead.’_

Eddie gulped, eyes bulging and his strained throat shrinking dangerously as the boy found it harder and harder to breathe. Wheezing, he reached for his aspirator only to find his hand being stopped abruptly by Henry grabbing his wrist, squeezing until Eddie was forced to tense his hand.

 _‘You don't need it,’_ Henry's growl was low and deep. _‘It makes you look weak. Get your shit together, Wheezy.’_

Eddie closed his eyes and tried to steady his persistent gasping, his hand still caught stiffly in Henry's grip. After a while he released a final shaking breath and nodded.

_‘I'm good.’_

Henry's mouth split into a wolfish smirk, teeth visible between his lips. ‘ _Good. That's good_ .’ He released the boy's hand which Eddie immediately withdrew, keeping both hands close to his thundering chest. ‘ _Let's get out of here, Kaspbrak.’_

He put a strong arm over the boy's shoulders and led him in the opposite direction of where Eddie wanted to be. The taller boy's arm was burning across his shoulder blades and Eddie was instinctively tense, running his tongue nervously over his dry lips as he tackled with the fact that he might never get away from Henry Bowers. Like a fly being held by the wing, all of his efforts seemed like a waste of his energy.

  
_That was how Eddie lost his nerve._

 

His treasured fanny pack he had worn for as long as he could remember had been the next victim of Henry's crusade to domesticate him. Eddie’s new friends had stripped it from him and threw it around in an infuriating game of piggy in the middle.

_‘Henry, drop it! That’s my medication!’_

_'You can carry pills around without looking like a fag, Kaspbrak,'_ Henry retorted with the menacing and dreadful smirk of a hunter with the barrel of it's shotgun pointing at a prized kill.

_‘Yeah but my mom gave me that! She likes it cause it keeps them close.’_

_‘That's sweet,’_ Victor Criss jeered, throwing the endangered fanny pack to Patrick Hockstetter. _‘Little mommy's boy, huh? You gonna cry, mommy's boy?’_

Henry stalked towards Eddie with the grace of a practiced killer, bringing up a greasy hand to mess up the small boy's hair.

 _‘Don't worry, Wheezy. We can keep you meds good and safe for you. After all, that's what pals are for, right? You need a pill and we provide em.’_ His terrible voice carried an obvious ghost of a smile, unwavering and all too amused by Eddie's distress.

_‘Buh-but my ma...If I go home without my meds she'll freak.’_

Henry shrugged. _‘That's not my issue.’_

 

_That was how Eddie lost his independence._

 

 _‘What do you mean you lost your fanny pack, Eddie?’_ His mother shrieked. The whale of a woman's face was that of a corpse as the shock washed over here. _‘What would have happened if your sickness got much worse while you were at school and you couldn't take or do anything? You should have come straight home, young man. First that dreadful jacket and now this. What's happened to you, Eddie bear?’_

Eddie said nothing to his mother, staring down to avoid her stare. He knew that one look into her eyes and he'd burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears. He could already feel them welling up inside his head, flooding his brain to prevent him from thinking clearly. He couldn't let himself do that. Henry said that only sissys cried.

 _‘'m sorry, ma,’_ he mumbled the flat apology to the linoleum floor of the kitchen. _‘I'll take the spare pills in my backpack tomorrow, 'kay?’_

 _‘No, Eddie, that isn't good enough,’_ his mother's shrill voice whined, pleading and concerned. _‘Go upstairs and take your medicine. Then we'll walk down to Keene's and I'll buy you a new fanny pack.’_

 _‘No,’_ Eddie's response was so blunt and sharp it surprised even him, the word cutting off the end of his mother's sentence like a blade. _‘No, you won't buy me a new fanny pack.’_

 _‘...Edward Kaspbrak,’_ his mother whimpered in shock. _‘Do not raise your voice at me. Now go take your medicine. Look at yourself...this jacket isn't you. You look so messy... And what have you done to your hair? It looked so smart this morning.’_

She reached a trembling hand to fix his hair and that's when Eddie had done something so sudden and so unexpected that it caused Sonia Kaspbrak to start crying almost immediately. Eddie quickly brought up his own hand and struck it against his mother's, the quick contact producing a loud slap as if his hand was striking wet cornflour instead of a human hand.

 _‘...Eddie,’_ his mother blubbered quietly, face a picture of shock.

 _‘You're not getting me a new pack, ma. And I'll take my medicine when I need it. I'm going out with my friends.’_ He strode with uncharacteristic power towards the door. It was so unlike him it felt like an out of body experience.

 _‘Eddie…’_ his mother repeated behind him. _‘Eddie, please come back! Eddie!’_ He paused momentarily by the door, but only for a moment before walking out, leaving Sonia Kaspbrak weeping his name over and over, begging him to come back and saying what a terrible son he had turned into.

 

_That was how Eddie lost himself._

 

These memories were still playing around Eddie's mind three months later as he sat staring out of the grimey, unkempt window of the trans am, wondering if he'd ever find a way out of his situation.

 _No_ he decided as he put his cigarette to his lips. Thanks to Henry a pack of cigarettes was now a common accessory found on Eddie despite his objections that he was asthmatic. He wondered why he still carried them - the first few times Henry had made him try them he coughed so hard he could barely breathe. Perhaps he hoped they would eventually kill him.

_I probably won't._

 

\--- --- ---

 

'Kaspbrak!' Eddie flinched at the aggressive tone in the voice that pulled him away from his thoughts and back to reality. He flicked the butt of his cigarette out of the car window and looked towards Henry in a way that was almost apathetic.

'Bowers?' He muttered, tone soft and polite. He reached a hand to itch the back of his head, nails eliciting a light scratching sound.

Henry made his way towards Eddie as the crow flies, climbing over and under anything that might be blocking his way. He was flanked closely by Victor Criss and Patrick Hockstetter. Henry had that dark and intense look in his eyes that used to scare Eddie. Now the smaller boy just met the gaze with indifference.

'Can I help you?' He asked pleasantly as Henry reached the car.

'Ben Hanscom,' Henry replied simply. Eddie's neutral expression faltered, eyes widening slightly.

He had made an effort not to think about the Losers club since his one week time limit passed. It upset him too much knowing that being with his friends would put them all at risk so he had just avoided them all together.

'You know Tits, don’t you?' Henry continued, clarifying his sudden decision to bring the forgotten boy back into the forefront of Eddie's mind.

Eddie blinked quickly to interrupt his trance before he could fall back into happy nostalgia, looking up at Henry. 'Yeah...yeah, I knew him, Bowers.'

'You're gonna do something for us, Wheezy,' Victor mused, picking at his fingernails. 'A favour. As a friend.'

'Friend, huh?" Eddie mumbled, looking down at his packet of cigarettes and debating whether he should light another so Henry could be reassured he was doing as he was told. He opted not to, slipping them into his jacket pocket.

'Yeah,' Henry thoughtfully nodded, staring through Eddie. 'Friend. Anyway. Belch is throwing a senior party this Saturday. You’re going if you needed me to spell that out but that’s not important right now,' He leant forwards, hands resting on the open window frame on the car door. The muscles in his arms tensed as he supported himself, perfectly displaying the boy’s intimidating strength. 'You're going to invite Tits. You're going to tell him that Beverly wants him to be there. He’ll trust your word, go to the party, then we'll take it from there.'

Eddie's eyebrows shot up, mouth opening and closing, unable to find words to describe what he was thinking. 'No,' he managed finally after a solid few minutes of trying to decide if the word was correct. 'Fuck no! No, I'm not doing that. Ben's my friend you asshole. Do it yourself.'

Henry's eyes widened and a flicker of a smirk crossed his lips. 'Are we gonna have a problem, Kaspbrak?' Eddie sat up straight and puffed out his chest in an effort to look stronger than he felt.

'Yeah, we are gonna have a problem. I'm not betraying my best friends for Henry fucking Bowers.'   
Henry sighed and stood back up straight, his fingers on his left hand massaging his temple. It abruptly dropped to his side, forcing Eddie to instinctively jump at the sound and lose his "tough guy" appearance as he cowered.

'Eddie, why are you pulling on my dick?' He snapped, losing whatever patience he had for the younger boy. Eddie frowned, brow furrowed. He was unsure if he was more confused by what Henry had accused him of or the fact Henry had used his first name instead of “Wheezy” or “Kaspbrak.”

'Uh-uhm...I'm not?'

'You really think Tits would stick up for you like this if he was given what you're getting from us, Wheezy?' Patrick purred, eyes locked on Eddie intently like a cat eyeing up a fallen baby bird.

'Shut up, Patrick,' Henry spat, eyes flashing with rage as he turned quickly to interrupt the other boy.

'...Sorry, Henry,' Patrick muttered, turning his feline gaze downwards in submission.

'But he's right, you know,' Henry turned his attention back to Eddie. 'That fat fuck would leave you in a heartbeat. He definitely wouldn’t be defending you if I told him to throw you on the tracks.'

‘That’s not true, Bowers,’ Eddie mumbled, looking down at his hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world so he could avoid Henry’s eyes. ‘You don’t know shit about Ben. He’s so kind, he would never…’ He trailed off, leaving his words running thin.

 _He would never do what I’ve been doing to him_ was what Eddie wanted to say.

‘I know about you, Wheezy,’ that gunmetal unblinking stare was back and it sent an electric shock down Eddie’s back for the first time in months. ‘If you were as weak as you’re acting right now, you wouldn’t be in that car wearing that jacket. You’d be six feet under.’

‘We’ve made you one of the most powerful guys at this school,’ Victor looked up from his nails, eyes locked on Eddie thoughtfully. ‘Now are you gonna say thank you and get on with it? Or are you gonna continue to bitch and moan?’

Eddie sighed, resting his head back against the headrest. He closed his eyes, thinking deeply.

 _Ben probably wouldn’t even want to go to a senior party. He wouldn’t know anyone. Maybe if Eddie told Ben that he wasn’t going himself, Ben wouldn’t bother. Why would Bev be going anyway?_ There were a million ways around the situation and he knew starting a fight with Henry over something so seemingly harmless as asking somebody to a party wasn’t one of them.

‘Thank you,’ he muttered finally, eyes still shut. Victor couldn’t help cracking a smile at the response, face softening slightly.

‘That’s my boy,’ Henry purred, reaching through the car window and patting Eddie’s shoulder fondly. ‘I knew you’d get there. You’re good at learning. Still remember what I told you at the start of all this?’

Of course Eddie remembered. The phrase had seemed so ridiculous at the time and yet Eddie had grown to understand it better than Henry probably did himself. He might as well tattoo the words onto the insides of his eyelids with the amount it had sunken into his mind. The words were so simple yet seemed to encapsulate every aspect of his friendships - every aspect of his current life - seamlessly and without error. He repeated these words now in a hushed tone, earning another chilling, unnatural smile from Henry Bowers.

 

_‘If you wanna fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly.’_

 

\--- --- ---

 

Eddie was perched on a low stone wall a few metres from the school entrance, his feet barely brushing the grass. He stared down at the sneakers swaying back and forth, frowning intently as he wondered whether he was ever going to grow. There was a cigarette poking out from between his full pink lips, smoke meandering lazily from the burnt tip.

Despite his relaxed body language, Eddie was freaking out. If he had been the Eddie that existed three months prior, he would be running his mouth to some minorly concerned member of the Losers club. The new Eddie didn’t have that privilege.

Henry had told him to wait for Ben to come out at the end of the day, stationing him on the brick wall like a stone grotesque watching over a church. He had no idea what he’d say to Ben. He hadn’t talked to the boy in three months - he doubted Ben would even recognise him. He’d changed a hell of a lot.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He mumbled to himself around his cigarette, running a hand through his soft hair.

‘I don’t know. What are you doing?’ The smug voice behind him replied. Eddie shrieked - shrill and high - and jumped in surprise, losing his balance. His cigarette fell into the grass and Eddie would have followed if he hadn’t been grabbed around the waist from behind by two strong hands.

‘Yowza! If I knew you’d fall for me this quickly I would have said something earlier,’ the mystery voice heckled. Eddie rolled his eyes and jabbed his sharp elbow into the boy’s ribs, hearing the boy gasp in shock as his grip immediately loosened. The hands left completely and the person giggled, quiet and breathy.

‘Ow! Wehll oi saiy, guvnuh! Oi wusn’t espectin you to get so poked up, oi wusn’t!” The mock English accent was terrible, over the top and all too obviously still belonging to the boy, but Eddie still couldn’t stop himself from smirking slightly at the absurdity of it.

He jumped off the low wall and turned to face his savior, raising his eyebrows as he was met with absurdly large russet brown eyes. It took him a moment to process that they only looked so large due to the boy’s thick coke bottle glasses which took up at least a third of his face. Eddie couldn’t help laughing softly to try and shake the surprise, rubbing his right temple gently.

Once he had regained his composure, he took in the rest of the boy’s appearance. He was tall - although everyone seemed tall when placed beside Eddie - and slender, the white t-shirt underneath his floral pink Hawaiian shirt falling over his flat stomach with no disruption from his stomach underneath. Eddie trailed his eyes back up to the stranger’s head, smiling involuntarily as he admired the soft black curls framing the sides of the other’s rounded face.

The stranger would have made a comment about Eddie’s staring that would probably have earned him another blow to the ribs if he hadn’t been doing the exact same, red pillow lips parted to show his teeth as he smiled.

‘Wow,’ he smirked, physically unable to keep those lips still for much longer. ‘You’re even attractive from the front.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Eddie squeaked, smile fading and face flushing a terrible red. ‘You’re so fucking weird. How long were you watching me?’ His reaction caused the taller boy to start laughing again. The warm and friendly sound made Eddie want to smile again, but first he decided he wanted answers so he kept his face straight and mildly annoyed.

‘Where are my manners?’ The other chuckled out the last of his giggles, wiping his palm on the side of his jeans before offering it to Eddie. ‘Richie Tozier is the name, doing voices is my game.’

‘...Eddie…’ Eddie replied, eyeing Richie cautiously as he took the hand. ‘Kaspbrak…’

‘Glad to meet you, Eds! I was starting to think you were stuck to that wall you were sat there so long.’

‘Don’t call me Eds,’ he muttered, unable to hide the smirk creeping onto his lips that Richie would most definitely notice - and notice he did, Richie’s own cheshire grin splitting his face further.

‘Whatever you say, Eddie Spaghetti!’

Eddie couldn’t hold back any longer, giggles erupting through his small body as he shoved Richie backwards.

‘What the fuck? What does that even mean?’

‘It just came to me,’ Richie winked, catching his bottom lip under his teeth as he watched Eddie ride out his laughing fit.

Eddie lifted his head, wiping his eyes with a stupid grin plastered to his face. It felt good to laugh. However his smile soon dropped when he noticed a large boy trotting down the front steps of Derry High School, all memories of what he had been posted there to do flooding back in crushing waves.

‘I’ll be back,’ he mumbled, patting Richie’s shoulder without moving his eyes from Ben’s round figure. Richie shrugged and leaned against the wall, watching Eddie with attentive curiosity.

Eddie approached Ben, forcing a welcoming smile and holding out his arms. ‘Ben! It’s been so long.’ Ben jumped and turned to his old friend, eyes widening ridiculously in shock.

‘...Eddie? Holy shit, you look weird,’ he squealed in surprise as Eddie pulled him into a hug, the smaller boy’s arms too stretched to meet behind Ben’s back. Eddie patted Ben’s soft back and pulled away.

‘I’ve missed you, Hanscom,’ he frowned with genuine sadness, looking Ben in the eyes. ‘I’ve been a shitty friend.’

‘No...We all get it. You can’t exactly say no to Bowers,’ Ben smiled faintly, relaxing in the presence of his old friend. ‘But we’ve missed you.’

Eddie gritted his teeth together, looking down at the cracked stone pathway as he debated whether or not to do what Henry had asked of him. Couldn’t he just go with Ben to the quarry and enjoy his time with friends while he could before facing the consequences tomorrow? He supposed that was an opinion, but it was definitely not an option Henry Bowers would like to hear about.

 

_“As long as you wear that jacket, I own you. And as soon as you're not wearing it, you're fucking dead.”_

 

He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself out of his daze before smiling brightly at Ben.

‘Oh yeah! I heard something you might want to hear,’ Ben’s eyebrows raised slightly, looking at Eddie with sudden intrigue. ‘Belch Huggins is having a senior party on Saturday. I was invited but you know me - I’m not really the party type. But do you know who else was invited? Beverly. Do you know who Greta Keene overheard Bev telling Betty she wanted to be there with her..?’ He trailed off, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Ben’s face lit up, mouth cracking into a wide smile that cause his cheeks to swell.

‘Me? Really?’ Eddie nodded quickly, his wide grin masking the guilty ache throbbing in his chest.

‘Of course you! You’re her favourite after all.’

_How could he be so cruel to such a good friend? What was wrong with him?_

‘Wow...I can’t believe this, Eddie! This is great!’

There was a loud honking of a car horn that cut off the end of Ben’s sentence. The two small boys turned to see Henry Bowers leaning out of the passengers side of the old trans am, his eyes fixed on Ben’s large figure.

‘I should go…’ Eddie sighed, patting Ben’s shoulder. ‘It was great talking...We’ll meet up at some point soon, yeah? Don’t tell Bev that Greta told me. It’ll ruin the surprise.’

Ben nodded quickly, hugging his small friend in a tight bear hug. Another pang of guilt hit Eddie through the chest like a bullet. He glanced over at Richie who was still beside the wall, watching Eddie closely with a concentrated frown, his expression a fusion of being shocked and being perplexed.

Henry honked again, the loud droning noise extended this time. Eddie pulled away from Ben and waved slightly before running to the car, legs pumping as quickly as they could to get him away from the toxic situation. He reached the car, leaning against Henry’s door as he caught his breath.

‘Did’ya do it?’ Victor asked, leaning over Patrick in the drivers seat from the seat behind. Eddie nodded silently in response, closing his eyes tightly and resting his hand on his forehead.

_He was the worst. He was the fucking worst. He’d never forgive himself if Henry did something to Ben that Saturday. He should just leave. He should run and not come back. He should -_

‘What do you want, you four-eyed faggot?’ Henry’s predatorial growl snapped Eddie’s eyes open, the boy looking up to see who the insult was aimed at. His eyes widened slightly when he realised it was Richie Tozier who was the victim of the abuse, the tall boy sauntering over casually. Henry glanced at Eddie, noticing his surprised expression and sneering. ‘You know this fuckface, Wheezy?’

‘His name is Richie Tozier,’ Eddie mumbled, focus locked on Richie’s enlarged eyes staring back at him. ‘Don’t call him fuckface.’ He could help smiling a little when Richie’s lips split into his wonderful cheshire grin.

‘What did you just say to me?’ Henry muttered, dark and deep as he opened the car door, stepping out and towering over Eddie. His hair hung either side of his head, his face appearing darker from the shadows. Eddie whimpered pathetically and looked away, focusing on the space between his feet so he didn’t have to face Henry. ‘Huh, Wheezy? What the fuck did you say?’

‘He told you not to call me fuckface,’ Richie mused casually, smile unwavering as he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. ‘Jeez, you really need to dig that wax out your ears.’

After a slow turn of his head to look back to Richie, Henry moved like a bolt of lightning - throwing himself towards Richie. Richie’s hands shot from his pockets almost as soon as they had settled and he launched off towards the school building. Victor and Patrick climbed out the car without hesitation, pursuing closely behind Henry as they hunted Richie as a wolf pack. Richie was cackling wildly as he ran, legs pumping fast. He didn’t stop once to check on the Bowers gang’s progress in catching up to him, eyes fixed on where he was going as he vaulted over short walls and curved around trees.

Patrick caught him first, cutting a corner around an exceptionally thick tree trunk and diving towards Richie. He was flung headfirst into the boy’s waist, hearing Richie shriek in shock as Patrick sent them both tumbling onto the grass. His glasses flew through the air, landing just past arm's length. Richie grunted heavily as his head struck the soft ground, shaken by the impact. He wasted little time despite this, quickly turning onto his back to face Patrick. The older boy pinned Richie by one shoulder and raised his free hand in a white-knuckled fist. Richie’s unrestricted hand shot up to grab the wrist of the looming hand, holding it in place as Patrick struggled against the grip.

‘Let go, fag!’ Patrick hissed through gritted teeth, releasing Richie’s shoulder to try and pry the hand away. Richie saw the opportunity and took it, releasing the wrist and using both hands to gracelessly shove Patrick backwards, the boy landing on his ass. Richie jumped to his feet as if he had been struck with a hot poker, bringing up a leg and kicking Patrick in the chest, knocking him further onto the floor and dazing him from the shock.

The sudden sound of breaking glass drew Richie’s attention, his head whipping around just in time to see Victor’s foot rising up from the now shattered coke bottle glasses before he was knocked down again by the fist of Henry Bowers.

Richie hit the ground on his stomach, a high pitched ringing echoing through his heavy head that reminded Richie of the sound you heard in your ears after firing a gun for the first time. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling a deep gash in the soft skin and tasting metal. Before he could move to get himself up, Henry was on him, perched on his back like a great vulture as he punched the side of the boy’s head over and over. Richie was finding it hard to gather his thoughts, vision even more blurry than he was used to without his glasses. He gritted his teeth and used all his adrenaline-fuelled strength to turn over onto his side, throwing Henry to the floor.

He wasted no time stumbling to his feet, shooting forward again. He couldn’t steady himself enough to understand where he was going but that didn’t stop his legs. Victor was on his tail, shouting and jeering at him as he ran. Abruptly Richie stopped running, smoothly turning on his heel and jumping out of Victor’s way with a slight disorientated stumble. Victor slowed his charge immediately - brow furrowing in confusion - and Richie wasted no time catching up with the boy and grabbing the blonde cowlick in both hands, tugging. Victor cried out at the stinging pain spreading like fire through his head from his scalp, eyes screwed shut. His head was pulled down by the hair and smacked into Richie’s raised bony knee, the attacker suddenly letting go to let Victor tumble to the floor, hands on his head as he groaned in pain. Richie’s smile returned along with uncontainable laughter, his body folding over with his hands on his knees to support it as he noticed blood beginning to run from Victor’s nose.

‘Get back here, fuckface!’ Henry Bowers yelled, charging towards Richie at full speed.

 _He looks like an angry bull,_ Richie thought to himself in good humour as his laughing died down to giggles. He smirked with wicked intent, standing straight and holding out an arm.

‘Toro! Toro!’ He cried in a terrible Spanish accent, the taunt seeming to rile up Henry even more. When Henry was no less that two feet away, Richie quickly raised his arm and stepped aside.

‘Ole!’ He cried in triumph. Henry’s eyes widened in shock when his foot caught on Victor’s fallen body, the sudden stop throwing his body down onto the floor. He landed on his face with a thud and a grunt. Richie rested a victorious, heavy foot between Henry’s shoulder blades, his wide grin sending blood trickling down his chin from his split lip. ‘Ole! Ole!’

Eddie, who had watched the entire fight, was howling with laughter, head throw back and eyes screwed tightly shut. He was laughing so hard it made his stomach ache. He applauded Richie until his hands stug.

‘Bravo, Rich! You lasted longer than I thought you would.’

‘You expected less of me?’ Richie teased and shot the boy a wink. ‘See you around, Spaghetti Head!’

With that, Richie was gone - sprinting down the street before Bowers could come to his senses. Eddie made his way over to Henry and offered the boy a hand, still hiccuping out giggles with a grin splitting his face. Henry looked up at him and scowled.

‘What’re you laughing at, Kaspbrak?’ He spat, grabbing the other boy’s hand and pulling himself off of Victor. ‘You never laugh.’

‘I know,’ Eddie snickered, wiping his watery eyes. ‘Brilliant, isn’t it.’

 

_That was how Eddie found himself again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments are much appreciated <3


	3. Did You Say Coke or Cherry?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Belch Huggins' party.
> 
> Eddie runs into his favourite pain in the ass at the convenience store, Henry loses his patience and Eddie spends his last thirty hours getting freaky.
> 
> (ft. lyrics from Africa by Toto)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this took a long time to write. Sorry this chapter took so long, I hope the length makes up for it. Enjoy <3
> 
> WARNING: This chapter has some implied sexual content and suggestive language at the end (but no smut).
> 
> All the Losers are aged up to 17 in this fic - the same age as the lead characters in Heathers - so please do not hurt me. (The Bowers gang are around 18/19)

‘Corn nuts!’

The Saturday sun’s light was rapidly dying overhead, the sky turning to a swirling pallet of warm burnt orange and purple. The evening was growing exceptionally crisp and breezy, nearby bushes and overhead trees rustling softly as they were disrupted by the wind.

The fluorescent, illuminated sign of Derry’s only Snappy Snack Shack was growing more and more prevalent as the natural light faded, the neon blue reflecting on the tarmac of the car park and soft, repetitive convenience store music drifting out through the automatic door.

Eddie was stood in the open door, collar of his blue leather jacket turned against the brisk cold and hands buried into the front pockets of his dusty pink jeans as he looked back over his shoulder at the Bowers gang piled into Belch’s trans am.

‘BQ or plain?’ He muttered with a mentally exhausted expression, hand toying with the crumpled dollars in his pocket. Henry stood up and leant the top half of his body out of the car window, arm rested on the roof to support himself.

‘BQ!’ Henry yelled back before ducking back inside the car, undoubtedly turning to Victor and Patrick in the back seats to complain about how Eddie could be so stupid sometimes no matter how hard he was trained. Even after all the time they had spent together, Eddie still found it hard to expect anything but bad things from Henry Bowers.

 

Henry was driving Eddie up the fucking wall. And _fuck_ did Eddie need a smoke.

 

He sighed heavily, turning back to the bright glow of the convenience store lights. He took a step forwards and the doors slid politely shut behind him. He found himself hoping that they would stick together to block the only means of escape. A lifetime in the Snappy Snack Shack would be a million times better than a lifetime with those assholes. This thought quickly came and went as Eddie began his search for the snacks Henry had ordered from him.

The Snappy Snack Shack was full of eye-bleeding colour and tacky pop music, shelves overflowing with various brightly coloured junk food packaging.

_Lipstick on a pig,_ Eddie thought to himself in disgust as he looked over the joyous packaging with a cynical eye. He found the corn nuts, cradling the first packet on the hook in the palm of his hand. _Jeez, I wonder how much all this shit would fuck up your body._

Eddie immediately stopped his train of thought when the sound of an exaggerated southern drawl drifted over his shoulder, hand dropping away from the hook and down to his side.

‘Whell hey there, darlin’. You come roun’ these here parts of’en?’

‘Richie…’ Eddie growled softly, a smirk forming on his lips. ‘That was worse than the British guy routine.’ Eddie heard a soft, breathy laugh vibrate through Richie’s body, the boy being so close that he could practically feel it against his back. He hastily tugged a pair of the colourful red packets off of their hook and whipped round to face Richie.

He found himself face to neck with the boy, jumping back in shock at how close Richie was to him and ramming his back against the counter. He winced in pain, biting his lip and squinting his eyes shut.

Richie’s laughter increased, the boy throwing his head back. His black curls bounced as his laughing fit shook his body. His head came back forward, a hand coming up to wipe his eyes under his glasses.

‘Ah, Eds, you crack me up.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ He whined, standing straight and rubbing the small of his back. He pouted up at Richie and shoved the boy’s chest with the palms of his hands. ‘And step back a bit. Personal fucking space, Richie.’

Richie threw up his hands in mock surrender, stepping back with his cheshire grin plastered on. ‘Ah s’rrenduh, mizter!’

‘Beep beep, Rich,’ Eddie’s pout melted before he could help it, a small smile playing on his lips.

Richie, grin unmoving, shook his head, tilting it downwards as he thought about what to say next. He noticed the packets in Eddie’s hand and took one, reading the label. He held it up and shook the packet lightly. ‘Can I get you a super chug to go with these, sir?’

‘No...But if you shut the fuck up I’ll let you buy me a slushie,’ Eddie smirked, snatching the packet back out of Richie’s hand. Richie lifted a hand to his mouth and mimed zipping it shut right to left before throwing away an imaginary key. Eddie laughed, shaking his head slightly.

‘What are you doing here, Trashmouth?’ He drawled out, absently scanning one of the packets of corn nuts. He frowned when Richie didn’t reply, looking up. Richie smirked and pointed to his lips. Eddie let out a great sigh and lifted a finger, moving it across Richie’s lips left to right.  

Richie giggled. ‘Trashmouth, huh? Eddie gets off a good one. Anyways parents don’t want me around most of the time, so why waste time at home?’

‘Well...If you’re out so much how come I’ve never seen you around before that fight?’ Eddie frowned, leaning back against the counter.

‘I get moved around the family a lot. None of them seem to want me around too long though. My grandparents in Dallas. My aunt in LA. Uncle in Vegas. Parents in Maine…’ He trailed off, staring into the distance with a quiet yet dream-like expression. He shook his head, snapping himself out of the daydream and grinning at Eddie. ‘But y’know what all of ‘em have in common, Spaghetti-head?’ Eddie shook his head quickly, his face passive with unwavering focus as he listened to Richie. He barely noticed the nickname. The other boy chuckled softly and shook his head before gently patting a garishly colourful ice cream machine. ‘There’s always a Snappy Snack Shack. Y’know sometimes sticking one of those ol’ ham and cheeses in the oven is all that can keep me sane, Eds.’

‘...Why don’t your folks want you around?’ Eddie asked, his voice sensitive and gentle. He didn’t know how to react to this newfound vulnerability in front of him, the idea that there was more to Richie than he first thought peaking his childish curiosity. Richie sniffed out a silent laugh as a light fake smile hid his true thoughts from the boy in front of him. He looked back at Eddie and frowned with great concentration.

‘Did you say a cherry or coke slushie?’

Eddie relaxed slightly, still curious yet somewhat relieved by the change of subject. A smile crept over his lips.

‘I said you could get me one if you shut up. You’re still talking.’

‘I seem to recall that you wanted me to keep talking, Eds,’ Richie purred, a real grin overtaking the fake one.

A short grunt of laughter came from deep inside Eddie. ‘Don’t call me that…’ he paused for a moment, tongue flickering over his lips as he looked Richie top-to-bottom, bottom-to-top.

‘Cherry.’  
  
\--- --- ---  
  
Henry was waiting for Eddie with quiet loathing when the pair meandered out of the automatic doors, joking and teasing each other as if they’d been friends for years. Richie would make a juvenile reference to Eddie’s mother to which he would receive stifled laughed along with a louder "Beep-beep, Richie." Eddie would make a sarcastic, snappy comment on Richie’s lack of comedic genius to which _he_ would receive condescending teases about how much he hurt Richie.

They fit together better than Eddie had originally predicted, their edges connecting and complementing one another like a complex jigsaw. He felt a strange magnetic attraction to Richie. Like he was supposed to stay beside him.

‘So it must be tough. Y’know, getting moved around like that,’ Eddie frowned, lips toying around the plastic straw sticking out of his cherry slushie, a plastic bag containing two packets of corn nuts hanging over his arm.

‘Well, Eddie Spaghetti...Everyone has baggage,’ Richie shrugged, a smile dusting his lips as he made lingering eye contact with the smaller boy. ‘What about you? Is your life perfect?’

Eddie scoffed into the straw, the red ice puffing out in an attempted bubble. ‘Yeah. Perfect. I’m on my way to a high school party,’ he paused for a moment, brow furrowed. ‘...And don’t fucking call me “Eddie Spaghetti.”’

Richie’s proceeding laugh was cut off by an abrupt car horn that caused the pair to both jump, the two of them turning to find the source of the sudden sound. Henry was stood outside the car, leaning against the door on the driver’s side with his arm through the open window, palm of his hand resting on the car horn. He withdrew his arm from the car and stalked his way towards the pair. Eddie gritted his teeth, locking his jaw tightly before turning back to Richie and speaking again, voice sharp yet quieter than before.

‘No, my life isn’t perfect. I fucking hate my friends.’

A terribly amused smirk split Richie’s face, dark curls coming alive as he nodded. ‘Yeah, no. I don’t like them either, Eds.’

‘What the fuck did you just say, cocksucker?’ Henry barked at Richie, the aggressive tone of his voice not phasing Richie’s pleasant demeanour. Eddie could immediately sense Henry’s growing aggression as an animal senses an oncoming storm. The feeling sent a sharp chill down his spine, hair on his neck standing erect.

‘Nothing,’ he interjected immediately, not wanting Richie’s mouth to get its owner in trouble. ‘He was just leaving. Saying goodbye.’

Henry stood toe to toe with Richie and stared at him with an animalistic eye, cold blue piercing into the warm brown. ‘We have unfinished business, faggot. I’ll fucking get you sooner or later.’

‘Make that later preferably,’ Eddie whimpered in a small voice he doubted either of the other boys heard.  
Richie moved to reply but was finitely cut off by Eddie’s small hands grabbing his forearm. He glanced over his shoulder at the small boy, the other’s doe eyes blow wide with caution and fear. He was convinced he could hear Eddie speak despite the fact he hadn’t opened his mouth.

  
_Please just go, Rich. Please. For me. Jesus christ, just please…_

  
Richie looked back at Henry before nodding briefly. He turned to Eddie completely and patted the boy’s shoulder.  

‘See you around, Eds,’ he promised, winking at the boy. He glanced to back Henry one final time for less than a second before taking his hand off Eddie and walking back into the convenience store.

‘I’ll kill you!’ Henry yelled after Richie as the door slid shut.

Eddie watched the boy leave, his lip caught between his teeth and a strange warmth flooding his entire body. He was vaguely aware of the light blush on his cheeks.  
He was snapped out of the daze completely when a white hot pain exploded in his left cheek, the sudden change drawing a pained grunt from his throat. The feeling subsidised to a dull throb quickly and Eddie lifted a hand to cradle the aching cheek, left eye watering madly and sending a pair of tears racing down until they hit his hand.  
He stared up in disbelief at Henry, flinching back slightly when he was met with wild anger.

‘Get in the car, Kaspbrak, he ordered, voice demanding and trembling with rage. 'Before you push me.'

'What the fuck, Bowers!' Eddie tried to sound aggressive but the yell came out as more of a pathetic whimper. 'What was that for?' Henry rose his hand to hit again, Eddie wincing violently in anticipation of the hit.

'Car! Now!' Henry bellowed. Eddie didn’t argue twice, ducking past Henry and tripping over himself to get to the car. Victor opened the door from the back seat to let Eddie in, the small boy nodding briefly in thanks before climbing into the passenger seat. Henry followed closely, nostrils flared as anger ruptured through him in waves. He gripped the driver’s side door and forced it open, crawling into the seat and revving up the engine.

'One more wrong word out of you tonight and you’re fucking dead,' he growled deeply.  
None of the Bowers gang needed to guess who the comment was aimed towards as Eddie sank down into his seat.

 

_Turns out Henry had heard him._  
  
\--- --- ---  
  
Eddie dramatically heaved as the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap liquor rushed through him like a demon, burning him up from head-to-toe. He had never been to Belch’s house before - Henry’s house was usually the meeting place of choice due to Henry’s immense quantity of chores the gang routinely split between them - and so he had no way of knowing that the small, stuffy rooms of the building left little air to breathe on a good day. The room was hot and sticky from the body heat of the teenagers dancing and grinding against each other. He entire scene made Eddie want to vomit.

 

_If my mom knew I was here, she’d have an aneurysm._ _  
_

 

The thought was terrifying yet carried a certain rebellious satisfaction. 

Eddie felt his throat retreating with a familiar tightness as panic spread through his head like wildfire and his lungs tried to cope with the new atmosphere. He whipped round to face Victor Criss and desperately tugged on the sleeve of older boy’s jacket.  

Since Henry had taken custody of Eddie’s medication, Victor had been stuck with the job of issuing the medicine. He often carried Eddie’s respirator in the pocket of his own yellow biker jacket for easy access - although he was only allowed to give that to Eddie in especially bad circumstances. Due to this forced connection, Eddie had actually grown an artificial liking for Victor. He was the closest Eddie had to a friend in the Bowers gang.  
Vic turned casually to Eddie and raised a moderately concerned eyebrow at the boy’s strained, panting form, his childish face flushing from a combination of the heat and his own panic.

'You doing okay, Eddie?' He frowned, brushing his hair back out of his eyes.

'I...Ur, I need ma...my...' he bit his lip, dumbly pawing at Victor’s pocket only for his eyes to widen in fear when he felt it empty.

Victor shrugged sympathetically. 'Sorry, man. Henry has it tonight. Something about it making you look like a pussy. Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll give it if you start dying or something.'

Eddie looked up at the boy in dumb disbelief before quickly setting off around the crowd to find a space to breathe, pushing people out of the way as he went.  
Henry noticed him leave and scowled.

'Where the fuck does he think he’s going?'

'Having trouble catching his breath,' Victor surveyed the room idly. 'He’ll probably be back.'

'Fucking...He better not do anything stupid,' Henry hissed as he lost sight of the shorter boy. 'Fucking faggot is a pain in my fucking ass.'

'Hey, forget about him,' Victor frowned, turning to Henry. 'He’s not an idiot, he knows you’d smash his face in if he tried to pull something. Get yourself a drink and calm the fuck down.'

Henry turned on his heel to glare at Vic. The heavy expression shocked Victor momentarily before it quickly softened as if it was never there. Henry shoved Victor’s shoulder with a thin smirk. 'You’re next after him, Criss.'

Victor laughed slightly, unnerved at the comment as he tried to decipher whether or not it was just a twisted joke. Henry put his arms around Victor and Patrick’s shoulders and led them towards the kitchen to find their first drinks of the party.

 

\--- --- ---  
  
As Henry’s lips made contact with his first cheap beer, Eddie was still helplessly searching for a place that wouldn’t make him want to pass out or vomit. He was feeling his way along the wall of an upstairs hallway, throat wheezing as he tried to get his breathing under control. Around him were a horde of renegade drunks and diet-coke heads, yelling and dancing and kissing and sliding up against each other in primitive movements. The stench was unbearable.

He had first tried Belch’s bedroom, only to find a naked couple rubbing up against each other.

 

_He thinks that’s what they call third base?_

 

Then the bathroom where he found a group of five kids high as kites and passing round a burnt out joint.

 

_That actually looked like big fun._

  
_How do they enjoy this?_ He thought in genuine curiosity.

'Hey! Kaspbrak!' Eddie jumped at the sudden voice, already dramatically on edge from his asthma. He swung round to see Greta Keene standing a few feet away with another girl he didn’t recognise. 'Fucking hell, you’re the last person I’d expect to see at a Huggins party.'

'Yeah, wuh-well...Henry, y’know?' He laughed anxiously, leaning against the wall for support. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried hopelessly to calm down.

'Right...' Greta nodded, closely examining the boy’s body language. She stepped back and crossed her arms as best as she could while holding a cup. 'This is your first party, isn’t it. Well you’re not going to have fun going around that fucking stiff. You need to loosen up, Eddie. Here-' she thrust a barely touched red solo cup of beer into Eddie’s trembling hands. '-get a few of those in you.'

'Ah-I don’t drink,' Eddie smiled sheepishly, attempting to hand back the drink.

Greta raised an irritated eyebrow. 'Have you ever tried?'

Eddie didn’t respond, licking his lips nervously. He usually managed to sneak a few sips of his mom’s champagne on new years eve but that was the extent of Eddie Kaspbrak’s alcohol consumption. The phantom voice of his mother filled his head.

 

_Alcohol makes you sick, Eddie! Think about how fragile your poor body is already..._ _  
_

 

'Fuck it,' Eddie mumbled before taking a tentative sip. Greta smirked mischievously, taking the bottom of the cup and tilting it up towards the ceiling. Eddie whimpered in surprise, falling against the wall as he was made to forcibly chug the entire cup, throat and mouth working rapidly to swallow so none would spill onto his clothes. Greta dropped the cup and winked at Eddie while a nearby pair of blind drunks jeered and clapped at what they had seen.

Eddie frowned. 'Are they laughing at me?'

'Don’t be so sensitive, Eddie,' Greta rolled her eyes. 'They’re cheering. Wittle baby Kaspbrak just chugged his first beer.'

Eddie looked down, biting his lip as he tried to gather his thoughts. He looked back up, meeting Greta’s eyes.  

'Where can I get some more?'  
  
\--- --- ---  
  
Eddie’s uncontrollable, giggling laughter echoed through the kitchen as he leant on the counter, grabbing at a salt shaker and a shot glass with uncoordinated hands.

'Okay okay okay,' he slurred, looking up at Vic with a dopey grin. 'So it’s salt...th’n lime...an’ then shot!' He violently mimed throwing back a shot, stumbling backwards from the counter. Vic rushed to catch him under the arms, laughing at the boy’s lack of control.

'No, it’s salt then sho-'

Henry slammed his palms down on the counter to cut off Vic, face growing more annoyed with every passing minute.  
'You’re doing it wrong!'

Eddie frowned in confusion, looking back at Vic. 'Really? ‘cause I feel great.'

Victor smirked, shaking his head as he steadied the smaller boy back onto his feet. He messed the boy’s hair idly with his hand.  
'Fuckin’ hell, Kaspbrak...You really are gone, aren’t you.'

Eddie giggled and shoved Victor lightly. 'Don’ be stupid, ‘m right here!'

Henry pushed back from the counter and stormed through the crowd of teenagers, all of them parting before him like the red sea.

Eddie pouted as he watched him leave. 'Wha’s his problem?'

'Eh, don’t mind him,' Victor picked up his cup and swirled the amber liquid leisurely. 'He’s being...what’s the word...particular?'  
Eddie shot a confused look up at Victor, the boy meeting his eyes and standing up straight to explain himself.  
'This is the first time we’ve really brought you to a social place as part of the gang. The way people judge you will reflect on our image. Got me?'

Eddie nodded slightly in understanding, turning back to the direction Henry had disappeared. His eyes bulged with a sober dread when he noticed Ben Hanscom wondering cautiously around the party, everybody around the body staring down at him and laughing amongst themselves.

Eddie patted Victor’s chest, standing straight. 'Hold on to that thought, Vic...' he stumbled towards Ben, using the wall as a support. He reached the thick of the party, coming face to face with Ben.

'Ben! I didn’ think you were gonna show,' he laughed nervously, trying his best not to slur his words.

'I didn’t think you would be here either,' Ben frowned. 'You said it wasn’t you kind of thing.'

'Oh no, it isn’t,' Eddie agreed, shaking his head. 'But y’know how Bowers can be when he wants shit.' He flicked his hand towards Ben, a soft ‘pfft’ escaping from his lips.

Ben giggled slightly, staring at Eddie’s hooded, unfocused eyes in disbelief. 'Eddie, are you drunk?'

'...Uh little,' Eddie admitted. 'Greta said it’d help me loosen up.'

'I’ve never seen you drunk before,' he smirked at the rare novelty before shaking his head quickly. 'Beverly. Have you seen her yet?'

Eddie froze, running his tongue to the corner of his mouth. His mind started racing with possible replies.

 

_I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so, so sorry. They made me lie. She’s not here and you need to leave._

 

That’s what Eddie wanted to say. 

'...Nah, not yet. Maybe Greta would know? She’s upstairs.'

 

_Now would be a good time to shut your big mouth, Kaspbrak._

  
'Or maybe you could find Betty? I haven’t seen her yet either but she should be here.'

Ben frowned, looking slightly bothered by the suggestion. 'Eddie...haven’t you heard? Betty went missing yesterday.'

'Shit, really?' His eyes widened. 'Damn, kids are disappearing all over Derry...fuck, now I feel like a dick.'

Ben shook his head. 'No, forget it. I’m probably one of the only ones that know yet. I keep track of this stuff for my project, remember?'

'Oh yeah! Your history project,' he nodded quickly, old memories filling themselves in. 'I remember.' He glanced back over his shoulder, swearing under his breath when he saw Vic was no longer in the kitchen.

  
_He’s gone to get Henry._

  
'Anyway. Greta. Upstairs. She’ll know,' he beamed, turning back to Ben. 'I should probably find Bowers...catch up later?'

Ben nodded enthusiastically. 'Definitely.'

Eddie smiled warmly before turning and walking away. His smile instantly dropped when Ben was out of sight.

_  
_ _He couldn’t let anything happen to Ben. This was his fault. Ben did nothing wrong._

  
He cut through the crowded house, scanning every room for Henry. Hope flickered inside of him when he found Patrick staring into space in the corner of the dining room. The taller boy had a red solo cup in hand, black hair forming curtains around his round milky face. His eyes were unfocused and slightly glazed over as if the boy hadn’t been blinking for hours. He was wearing a green biker jacket to match Eddie’s, Victor’s and Henry’s, his idle hand shoved into an open pocket.

'Patrick,' he ran across the room towards the boy, grabbing his arm. Patrick’s head slowly turned to face Eddie, expression not moving. Eddie wetted his lips nervously. Patrick had always unsettled him. 'Have you seen Henry and Vic?'

Patrick’s eyes narrowed in thought. He looked past Eddie and lifted a hand to point. 'Right there.'

Eddie turned on his heels to see Vic leading Henry and Belch towards the living room.

 

_Towards Ben_  
_Fuck_

 

He bit his lip, head whipping back to Patrick who was once again staring out at nothing in particular.

'Are you going with them?'

'...No,' Patrick mumbled with a dream-like tone. 'I’ll go when I want to go.'

'Oh-okay,' Eddie fumbled with his words, his head a clouded mess of panic and intoxication. 'Cool. I need to catch them so I’ll see you later.' He didn’t wait for Patrick’s reply, dodging through the crowd of sweaty bodies to where he had seen Henry and Victor. His mind was racing, sober thoughts built like sandcastles only to be washed away with another wave of numbing alcohol.

 

_...Have to get Ben out..._ _  
_

_...Find a phone? Call Bev?_

_No, Bev will get mad._ _  
_

_Oh god, oh fuck, they’re all gonna hate me after this stunt..._

  
While following his washed up train of thought, he had finally managed to catch up to Henry. He was acutely aware of his jagged breathing and pinhole throat cutting through his drunken daze. He grabbed the arm of Henry’s pink biker jacket.

'Henry...’enry, please,' he whined pathetically. 'I need muh-hy aspirator. Pleeaase,' he dragged out the last word, tugging harder on the sleeve. Henry glared at him furiously with wide eyes and pushed Eddie away.

'I swear to god, Kaspbrak. I swear to fucking god.' Victor grabbed Henry’s other arm, convinced the boy was going to throw a punch once the sentence was done.

'I can’t breathe,' Eddie continued to moan. 'I’m dizzy and I can’t breathe right and ‘m feeling really sick like I’m gonna throw up so can we please just split?'

'No,' Henry almost laughed in hysterical frustration. 'Fuck no.'

Eddie had lied about feeling sick but now that he thought about it, the feeling of the cheap alcohol was actually burning up inside him - churning and bubbling - and making him feel unbearably nauseous. He winced as acidic pain pierced his stomach, staring up at Victor with a look of desperation. Victor was looking anywhere but at Eddie, his expression an unhidden mix of being uncomfortable and being afraid.    
Eddie looked down at the floor, dry heaving a few times before closing his eyes and letting go. Hot, rancid-smelling liquid splattered onto the floor, some deflecting up onto Henry Bower’s jeans for good measure.

Henry roared with unchained rage, grabbing Eddie by the hair and dragging him through the crowd to the front door. Eddie shrieked at the sharp pain in his scalp, looking back to see if Victor would step in. Victor had remained in place, looking down distastefully as the putrid puddle settled into the carpet.  
  
  
\--- --- ---  
  
Henry threw Eddie against the side of the house, pinning the smaller boy against the rough brick.

'I’m fucking done with you, Kaspbrak!' He screamed, flecks of spit flying onto Eddie’s face. Henry’s eyes were wild and twitching with rage, his fists trembling around the collar of the boy’s jacket as he held him in place. 'You were fucking nothing before me. You were a faggot. You were a loser. You were a fucking girl scout. Then I give you a chance people would die for and _THIS_ is how you repay me?' His face twisted into a furious sneer. Eddie couldn’t find the voice to respond, breathing shallow and desperate. His eyes were blown wide in fear, hands laying flat and useless by his hips. 'My payment is on Belch’s fucking carpet!' Henry roared again, smacking Eddie’s body hard against the wall to emphasise how furious he was. 'I got paid in PUKE!'

The second blow against the wall triggered something within Eddie.

 

_This boy had taken his friends._

_This boy had taken his dignity._ _  
_

_His mother, his freedom, his happiness, his hope, his wonder_

  
He growled in fury, kicking up a foot and hitting Henry square in the nuts, causing the boy to yell out and double over in pain.

'Lick it up, Bowers!' Eddie howled, ripping his biker jacket off his body and throwing it into the dirt by Henry’s feet. The cold night air pricked his skin but he was too exhilarated to care. 'Lick. It. Up.'

Henry quickly whipped his body back into a standing position, uppercutting Eddie in the jaw. Eddie fell on his ass in the dirt, crying out in pain. He could taste metallic blood in his mouth, the knowledge he has bitten his tongue briefly occupying his mind. He looked up with cautious brown eyes, holding a hand to his damaged jaw. Henry was standing over him - a reaper coming to collect a damned soul. Eddie closed his eyes, bracing himself for the oncoming pain.

'Henry!' Eddie opened an eye as the voice of Victor Criss floated down from the window above. Victor was peering down, his blonde hair falling down around his face. His eyes briefly flicked to Eddie, concern in his eyes. 'I found Tits. He’s crying in the bathroom. Get up here.'

Henry swore under his breath, kicking Eddie’s ankle as he considered his options. His eyes fixed on Eddie and he knelt down until they were face to face. His voice came out in a low growl. 'Transfer to Ewen. Transfer to Hawkins. Because on Monday morning, all you’ll find at Derry High will be a memorial in. Your. Memory,' he jabbed his finger between Eddie’s eyes in time with the last three words to emphasise his point before straightening up.

He looked as if he was turning to leave before swinging back around and kicking Eddie hard in the gut. Eddie grunted in pain as the air flew out of him, collapsing against the wall and clutching his stomach. He groaned, head down between his legs as he listened to the sound of Henry walking away overlaying the faint blast of music from indoors.

  
( _There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do._ )  
  
_Holy shit, I really fucked it this time._

  
\--- --- ---  
  
Eddie didn’t know how long he’d been walking but holy _shit_ was it cold.

He had sobered up dramatically, his arms wrapped around his chest, palms cupping his elbows. His breath was still coming up short - he felt like he was drowning. His thoughts were in a hurricane, fragments blowing past and tearing, ripping, turning, bending. His hands shot up to hold his head, knees buckling slightly as he stopped walking, miraculously still managing to hold him up. He felt pathetic tears well in his eyes, wiping them with the back of his hand. Henry’s furious caterwauling was echoing through his recent memory at an unbearably loud volume.

_Looks like I really a pussy, Henry._ The thought helped him attempt a laugh, sniffing deeply as he lowered his hands.  
He had to decide what was next.

He had no idea where he was. Perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe he should keep walking to the next town and start a new life. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. It’d definitely be better than facing the uncontrollable wrath of the Bowers gang on Monday.

_Victor still has my pills,_ Eddie thought bitterly, scowling. Fucking Victor. Eddie considered Victor as being the closest thing to a friend he had over the last few months. Why hadn’t Victor helped him? Well, Eddie couldn’t exactly think of what else Victor could have done, but Victor was smart. Surely he could have thought of something?

Anyway, back to his plans of leaving town. Where would he live? What about money? He was only 17, he doubted he could get a sustainable job this young. What if Henry found him? He could go even further away. Seattle or some place. How the fuck was he getting to Seattle? He didn’t have a motorbike-

 

_Fuck it. Scrap the whole thing. That plan was stupid from the start._

 

  
He sighed and started walking again, staring at the pavement. He’d just have to make the most of the time he had left.  
The sound of Belch’s party had faded away around half an hour ago, the ghost of the music still echoing on repeat in Eddie’s head.

 

( _Gonna take some time to do the things we never had._ ) _  
_ ( _Hurry boy, she’s waiting there for you._ )

 

  
'Wait...' Eddie spoke out loud, stopping in his tracks. He knew exactly how he was going to spend his remaining hours. It was all clear to him now. A mischievous smirk crossed his lips. Was it crazy? Probably. Was it something Eddie Kaspbrak would ever do under normal circumstances? _Definitely_ not. Did a dead guy walking care about his morals and low self-confidence in his final moments before imminent death? Fuck no.

He took off down the street, his panic and asthma left struggling to catch up as he put more and more distance between them. He laughed maniacally, excitement bubbling in his chest that was usually too tight and restrained to accommodate such feelings. Eddie fucking _loved_ this new side to himself.

He ran past rows and rows of houses - streets upon streets - searching for any signs of what he was looking for. He didn’t even know where to start. Hours passed but Eddie still didn’t give up the hunt, navigating Derry with confidence and practice.  

Eddie paused partway down his current street when a sudden flash grabbed his attention, reeling his thoughts back to let his body catch up. He took a few steps back to examine the glint that had caught his eye. There was a silver plaque screwed onto the wall beside the front door of house number 31, the metal catching the light of a nearby streetlamp and reflecting it back at him. He felt drawn to the plaque. _Magnetic_ he thought idly as his feet crunched on the gravel driveway. As he approached, he started to make out black words across the silver in bold serif text.

 

**WENTWORTH TOZIER D.D.S**

_Tozier_  
  
Eddie felt a shiver chase up his spine, his wide grin returning in full force. He stepped back and surveyed the house. All the windows were black bar one - the leftmost window at the front of the house. After further investigation, Eddie took into account the large tree towering over the Tozier household coming up conveniently beside the windowsill of the illuminated window.

_That has to be his room,_ he convinced himself, starting towards the tree with newfound adrenaline. He reached the tree, grabbing for one of the lower branches and pulling himself onto it.

Climbing the tree proved to be a very difficult task for Eddie. His mother had never let him climb and so the entire experience was very new and scary to him. He held on to the tree with white-knuckled, instinctive determination, trying not to look down as he got higher and higher. He let out a long sigh of relief when he felt his foot touch the roof just outside Richie’s window. He planted the other foot firmly beside the first and crouched before the glass, gripping onto the windowsill. He lifted one hand and tapped cautiously on the glass with a fingernail.

 

_What if this wasn’t Richie’s room? What if this wasn’t Richie’s house? Fuck, Eddie would be in so much trouble._

 

  
He took a deep breath and knocked louder, the glass letting out a hollow "thunk." All of his fears and anxieties dripped down through the soles of his shoes when Richie drew back his curtain, face transition from scared shock to confusion to a face-splitting smirk. Eddie couldn’t help laughing, waving casually as the boy got to work unlatching his windows to crack them open.

Eddie jumped down from the window, landing softly on Richie’s carpet.

'So, Spaghedward,' Richie began, toying at the corner of his smile with his tongue as he spoke. 'Fancy seeing you around here. What brings you to this - the most esteemed and glorified location - my very own bedroom. I mean, I know your mom gives it high ratings but I didn’t take you for a five-star establishment kind of guy.'

Eddie leaned forwards, pressing his index finger perpendicular to Richie’s lips. 'Shh,' he giggled quietly. 'Beep beep, Trashmouth.'

Richie raised an eyebrow, confused and intrigued all in one. 'What’s the game, Eds?'

'Don’t call me that,' Eddie purred, lacing his fingers into the opening of Richie’s tacky Hawaiian shirt and tugging it off the boy’s arms, leaving Richie in his sweatpants and a plain white shirt. Richie was staring at his in dumbfounded disbelief.

'The game,' Eddie spoke slowly, savouring the newfound confidence that came out with every word. He _really_ loved this part of himself. 'Is that Bowers is going to be on the hunt Monday. They’re gonna stuff and mount me up in study hall. So I guess I was hoping you’d be my last meal on death row, four-eyes.'

Richie could hold back his laughter, staring open mouthed at the boy in front of him. His smile faltered as he continued to gawk at Eddie. 'Wait, you’re serious?'

'Do I look like I’m fucking joking?' Eddie teased, leaning intimately close to Richie.

'Do you even know how this shit works?'

'No.'

'Are you drunk?'  

'Slightly.'

'In that case I think we should wait until-'

He was silenced by Eddie pulling him forward, connecting their lips as a dizzy, uncoordinated kiss. Eddie groaned into the contact, letting his body curve towards Richie. It was fire, sparks flickering white against the insides of his eyelids and heat spreading from his cheeks to pool in his stomach. He balled his fists into Richie’s white shirt, pulling the boy closer. He smirked against the boy’s pillow lips when he felt Richie’s hands wrap around his hips, resting just above the waistband of his baby pink jeans. He pulled his head back slightly, pecking the corner of the other’s mouth before opening his eyes again. He beamed as he looked back into Richie’s, crackling brown and blown wide.

'...Shit, Eds,' Richie wetted his lips. 'If you wanna go through with this, you better mean it. ‘cause it’s been hard enough keeping my hands off you without all this.'

Eddie giggled, shoving Richie’s arm. 'Beep beep, ‘chee.'

'I mean it,' Richie smiled carefully, lifting a hand and stroking Eddie’s hair. '...You’re beautiful.'

Eddie’s smile melted off his face, replaced by a soft pink blush. '...Wait, really? I - uh-uhm...'

Richie chucked, taking off his brand new glasses and folding them, placing them carefully on his desk. He nuzzled his nose softly against Eddie’s own before leaning into another tender kiss. Eddie lifted his arms, tangling his fingers in Richie’s shaggy black hair.

He squealed in surprise when Richie abruptly broke the kiss, crouching down and lifting Eddie. He carried the boy to his bed and sprawled him over the sheets, standing back to admire him.

'Damn, Eds. Good looks must run in your family or something ‘cause you look almost as good in my bed as your mom did.'

Eddie scoffed, heart hammering in his chest. He could feel himself growing hard, blush deepening to a cherry-red. 'Don’t call me Eds, Trashmouth.' His hand shot up and grabbed the front of Richie’s shirt, pulling him onto the bed beside him. He rolled over onto the boy, straddling his hips and leaning down to stare into Richie’s eyes.

'You’re beautiful too,' he whispered. Richie opened his mouth to protest but Eddie quickly interrupted. 'Don’t try saying you aren’t - I just can’t agree to that.'

Richie’s lips pulled up into a sweet, genuine smile. It drove Eddie’s mind insane.

'...The world’s an unfair place, Eds. They’ll fight us back if we try this. You get that, right?'

'So what if the world’s unfair?' Eddie laughed softly, brushing the other boy’s soft black hair out of his eyes. 'For tonight they can all fuckin’ stay out there. In here it’s just you and me...' He lowered his head and kissed Richie’s neck lightly, feeling the boy shiver underneath him. He grabbed at the hem of the other’s shirt and - with some help from Richie - pulled it off. By the time the shirt had landed in a crumpled white pile on the floor, Eddie was already on Richie’s newly exposed skin, trailing feather-light kisses down his milky white chest. When he reached the hem of Richie’s jeans, he sat straight up on his lover’s bony hips. A smile played on his lips when he felt that Richie was also stiff underneath him.

He pulled his own shirt off and dumped it beside the white one, his soft, pale skin glowing in the low light. He leaned down dangerously close to Richie’s lips until they were breathing the same air, the feeling sending shots of exhilaration down through Eddie’s body. His dilated eyes burned with red hot desire, white sparks now exploding into fireworks. 

'Want to make this beautiful?' He purred in little more than a whisper, rocking his hips suggestively with eyes locked on Richie’s face, drinking in every detail he could find. The freckles. The fading acne scars. The buck-teeth in his smile. The healing split lip from only a few days before. The same fireworks Eddie felt in his eyes reflecting back out of Richie’s. The boy’s soft lips started to move in reply.

'That works for me, Spaghetti man.'  
  
Eddie spent the rest of the night tangled in Richie’s bed sheets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll try to get the next one out sooner.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated and loved <3


	4. What If This Was A Murder Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie has a nightmare, Eddie and Richie decide to get some payback on Henry on the morning after the party and the Bowers gang gets a new leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry this chapter took so long.  
> I'm not abandoning this fic, I've just had a lot of exams and I've started getting into some new fandoms that I might write for in the future.  
> I'm back now and I am going to finish this. Promise.  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

What a perfectly average day it was. An overcast afternoon in January, overhead trees naked and trembling wildly as Eddie trotted down the familiar Neibolt Street away from the trainyards and towards his home. His home where his mother would be waiting with an affectionate kiss, an inoffensive meal and a half-drained orange pill bottle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie caught a glimpse of a new colour on the regular monochrome Neibolt pallet. A frightening colour that brought an end to Eddie’s pleasant thoughts of his home and how he was going to spend his evening there. A savage and all too familiar colour that froze his feet to the uneven pavement. A colour that brought to mind the thick, hot flow of fresh blood.

He slowly turned his head towards the source of the colour that had caught his eye.

He saw the human figure sprawled on the steps of Neibolt house, limbs limp as those of a ragdoll discarded by an angered child.

He saw the blood - so much blood.

He’d seen all this before.

He fumbled for the zip of his fanny pack to retrieve his aspirator, pulling his attention away from the mangled body.

‘Can’t catch your breath, Wheezy?’

The voice froze Eddie, fingers stiffening around his medicine. His hairs stood erect and his brain was screaming for him to run but he couldn’t. The voice was so twisted and unnatural that it made Eddie feel faint. If there was a ghost equivalent to a regular human voice, Eddie now knew how it sounded. However the part that frightened him the most - the part that stopped his heart and curdled his blood - was that he knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

He swallowed heavily - feeling as if he was swallowing a thick, viscous cream rather than his own saliva - and reluctant he slowly turned his head to the source of his terror. He thought he knew what he would see. He would see that fucking clown with his grotesque smile and his bundle of red balloons, the one he had seen here at Neibolt not long before he was made to join Henry. It would cackle and laugh, shaking Eddie’s skeleton to the core. It would come for him and he would run faster than he had ever thought possible. However Eddie didn’t see what he expected and that was arguably the most frightening thing of all.

Looking back towards the house, there was a second figure stood up beside the wrecked body - the figure of Henry Bowers clutching a knife and drenched in blood that was not his own. Eddie’s surprise quickly turned to dread as his attention snapped to the body on the floor and that dread was thrown into a hurricane of disgust and shock and paralysing terror as Eddie let out a shattering scream.

His hands shot up to cover his eyes but the image of the mutilated body of Richie Tozier was already burned into his mind. He shook his head desperately, sobbing and crying out in pain. Then the voice - that _terrible_ voice - was back.

It laughed maniacally, the sound bouncing around Eddie’s skull like an echo chamber.

‘What’s the matter, Eds?’ It taunted. ‘Did you see something scary? Oh, I think you did, didn’t you. Tasty _tasty_ fear… But it’s not enough. I think we can do better than that. Open your eyes, Ladyboy.’

Eddie was hyperventilating between his tears, body convulsing with the intensity of his own sobs. He shook his head violently, whimpering.

‘Open your eyes, Eds…’

This voice was familiar and much softer. His heart skipped a beat. That was it, this was all a dream and Richie was trying to wake him up. All he had to do was open his eyes.

He sniffed, trying to calm his sobs before removing his hand from his face and looking up.

‘Rich-’ Eddie started before his eyes blew wide in fear and his mouth froze open in a horrified “O”, stopping his words dead.

Stood up on the porch was a new figure beside the corpse, which had once again reverted back into Henry Bowers. The figure was familiar and - as It had promised - much more horrifying. Gripping a large knife in a white-knuckled fist with dried blood splattering his hawaiian shirt and large coke bottle glasses was Richie Tozier, mouth wide in a cheshire grin as he gazed down at Eddie.

Eddie closed his frozen mouth and opened it again to let out another scream.

 

\---------

 

‘Eds! _Eds_ ! Open your eyes!’ Richie hissed, shaking the boy beside him in an effort to wake him up. Eddie had started to cry and whimper in his sleep, waking up Richie in the process. ‘Fucking… _Eds_!’

Eddie’s eyes snapped open and he shot up into a straight sitting position, hitting Richie in the face with his sudden movement. He gripped the bedsheets, shaking and sniffling as he tried to push the dream out of his head.

Richie rubbed his sore nose from where Eddie had hit hit before pulling the terrified boy into his arms. ‘Hey, what’s up? Shh…’

Eddie wiped his eyes and shook his head, forcing a smile as he looked up at Richie. ‘Sorry… A bad dream. I don’t really want to talk about it, can we go back to sleep?’

‘If that’s what you want…’ Richie frowned, uncomfortable with the thought but wanting to do what would be best for Eddie. He lay down and opened his arms. ‘Come here.’

Eddie’s smile grew as he settled back down into Richie’s arms, feeling Richie’s nose softly nuzzle against the nape of his neck. Before long he could hear Richie’s soft snores return as the boy fell back asleep.

Eddie remained awake for the rest of the night, feeling Richie’s strong arms around him as a comfort while staring out into the blackness of the room as if It was watching him from a corner, invisible in the dark.

 

\---------

 

The next morning felt as if the events of last night were nothing but a bad dream. It _was_ a bad dream after all. Richie had woken up Eddie with a warmth between his legs and now the two lay content in each others arms.

Eddie let out a satisfied sigh, cheek pressed up against Richie's bare skin as his head nestled into the crook of his neck.

'Wow,' Richie breathed out in a soft whisper. 'Fuck, Eds...Did your mom teach you her tricks or are you just that good natur- Ow!' He laughed, cutting off the end of his witty remark as Eddie gently bit into the soft skin of his chest.

'Beep beep, Richie,' Eddie purred in little more than a whisper, eyes closed. 'I think I can die happy now.'

'Don't say that, Eds,' Richie frowned, playing with the hair on the back of Eddie's neck with light fingers. 'He's not actually gonna kill you. He'd get in too much shit. 'Specially with his dad being a cop. He’ll probably just… I don’t know, you know the guy better than I do.'

'I know he won't actually kill me, idiot,' he pouted. 'I’m just not looking forward to kissing his ass tomorrow to make up for him being an oversensitive mega-bitch.'

Richie gave Eddie an over exaggerated look of embarrassment and betrayal, sitting up in bed. ‘Eddie Spaghetti… I can’t believe you.’

‘What is it now, Richard?’ Eddie groaned, settling back down on the pillow to compensate for Richie’s sudden movement. ‘And don’t fucking call me “Spaghetti”, I swear to God.’

A smirk broke Richie’s comedic expression. ‘I didn’t think you were the type to kiss the asses of other boys.’

Richie dissolved into a laughing fit at his own joke, sheltering his face with his hands as Eddie grabbed the pillow from under his head, hitting Richie’s head repeatedly in frustration.

‘You know what I mean, dipshit,’ he grumbled, settling back down. Richie retreated back under the covers with Eddie and sighed.

'Well… If you need to suck up to him anyway, why not get your own back while you can?' Richie suggested, looking down at the boy's head which was once again nestled into the side of his neck. 'We could go give him a wake up call right now and show him why he doesn't fuck with Eddie Spaghetti.'

'Tempting. Truly tempting,' Eddie frowned. 'But I'm good here. It’s cold outside and you're surprising warm for a guy that isn't that hot.'

'Ouch!' Richie laughed, poking Eddie in the ribs gently and causing the boy to jump. 'You're brutal, Spaghetti man. I seem to recall you calling me beautiful last night.'

'Not my name, Trashmouth,' he smirked,  propping himself up on his elbows to gaze at Richie's sleepy face. 'Besides. There's inner beauty.'

Richie stared up at him with mock sadness, a grin twinkling in his eyes. 'You wound me, Spaghedward.'

Eddie broke into a fit of adorable giggles, making Richie smile. He gently pulled Eddie’s head toward his face and pecked his lips. 'God, you're adorable.'

Eddie smiled and leaned into a deeper, more passionate kiss. Both boys had lingering morning breath but neither of them seemed to care, eyes closed and grips on one another tightening. Eddie broke the kiss first, nuzzling against Richie's cheek. 'What a day...What a life.'

Richie reached up a hand, combing his thin fingers through Eddie's tousled bed-head hair. He gazed into the boy's deep brown doe eyes. 'Well y'know what I think, Eds? I think Henry Bowers is one bastard that deserves to die.'

Eddie sighed, trailing a fingernail up and down Richie's bare chest. 'Killing Henry won't do shit...I say we just grow up, become adults and die. I mean, unless we manage to get ourselves missing before we have the chance.’

'Wish Bowers would go missing...' Richie beamed and pulled Eddie into another chain of soft, tender kisses.

'But...Before that...' Eddie continued between kisses, eyes closed and lips pulling into a mischievous smile. 'I'd like to...to see Bowers puke his guts out.'

'That, my dear Spaghedward, can be arranged,' Richie purred, mimicking the boy's smirk.

'Oh can it now, Richard?' Eddie cooed, opening his eyes. Richie admired as they twinkled in the low light. 'That would be wonderful.'

'You're wonderful, Eds.'

Eddie hit him on the arm followed by another gentle kiss on the cheek.

 

\---------

 

Henry was curled up in a nest of moth-bitten blankets and exhausted feather pillows, eyes closed without struggle as he drifted through a dreamless yet gentle sleep. There was a certain child-like vulnerability to the sleeping form of Henry Bowers, the boy's body nestled into the warmth of the blankets and his face relaxed and passive. Henry had a merciless hangover, but he wouldn't have to deal with that pain until he woke up. For now he was able to enjoy the comfortable nothingness he always found in sleep. Henry was so lost in sleep that he had no chance of noticing the sound of his back door swinging innocently open and closed with a soft squeak and click.

'Sure the coast is clear, Eds?’ spoke an equally soft voice as not to alert anyone nearby.

'You don't trust me, Rich? I'm hurt,' a second voice replied.

'No, of course I trust you. I just don't want you to get in trouble for breaking and entering. I mean, his dad's a cop, Eds.'

'I know his dad's a cop, idiot. I also know he goes on patrol around town every Sunday morning.'

'Wow, Eds. How convenient for you.'

'Shut up, Richie.' Eddie led the way into Henry's kitchen, looking around cautiously despite his confidence. 'And as for Henry, his hangovers are murder. He won't be out of bed for a while.'

'Hangover, huh?' Richie raised his eyebrows, realisation hitting him. 'That's the plan, isn't it. A classic wake up cup full of gross shit prank.'

'Read me like a book, Tozier,' Eddie smirked, opening a small cupboard in search of mugs and cups.

'Old but gold,' Richie beamed, leaning against the sink. 'I like it. Who know you were so mischievous. So what mix are you going for?'

'I don't know...' Eddie frowned, opening another cupboard and taking out a short white mug. '...Milk and orange juice? What's the up-chuck factor on that?'

Richie scoffed, shaking his head. ‘Eds, that’s so lame.’

‘Well what would you suggest, asshole?’ Eddie retorted.

Richie turned to the sink behind him and nudged open the cupboard underneath with his shoe. 'I'm more of a liquid drainer man myself...'

Eddie laughed, slightly uneasy at the joke as he backed towards the refrigerator. 'Don't be a dick. That would kill him.'

Richie paused for a moment before shrugging, crouching down and grabbing a dusty white bottle from underneath the sink. He kicked the cupboard closed and set the bottle beside Eddie's mug.

'Just sayin'... Et'll gets this 'ere job good n' done, misstur.'

'Beep beep, 'chee,' Eddie mumbled gently, opening the fridge and taking the bottle of orange juice and the carton of milk in either hand. He nudged the door closed with his hip and set the bottles down. He frowned in concentration as he started to pour equal parts milk and orange juice into the mug. 'Maybe we could like...hock a loogie up into it or something? Give the revenge a personal touch.'

Eddie started coughing and clearing his throat repeatedly, leaning down over the mug as he tried to form a sufficient mass of phlegm in his throat.

'You're so hot, Eds,' Richie purred, beaming as he watched the boy.

Eddie glared up at the boy. 'Shut the fuck up, Richie. I got nothing anyway.'

Richie laughed silently, shaking his head and turning to the cupboard where Eddie had found the mugs. He took out a white mug identical to the first and placed it beside Eddie's, unscrewing the childproof cap off the drainer and filling the cup. The dark blue liquid was unnaturally vivid and luminous against the white ceramic surface of the mug.

'I still think we should go with big blue here,' he shot Eddie his cheshire grin, picking up the mug and swirling the liquid playfully.

'You're so not funny,' Eddie shook his head, staring down intently at the mingling orange and white in the mug in front of him. Richie frowned, setting his mug beside Eddie's.

'I'm sorry, Eds. This is your revenge. Milk and orange juice will make that asshole spew all the red white and blue he deserves.'  
Eddie's lips twitched into a smile, looking up to meet Richie's eyes. He leaned forward and caught the other boy's soft lips on his own, eyes fluttering closed as he felt Richie lovingly return the gesture. He tangled one hand in one of Richie's own and used the other to grab for his concoction on the counter. His fingers closed around the rim, lifting the cup close to his chest. He broke the kiss and gazed up at Richie.

'Let's go or he’ll wake up by himself. We can clean the kitchen up after.' He let go of Richie's hand and headed for the stairs. Richie smiled to himself as he watched the boy, glancing back down at the counter. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the sickening mix of orange and white equalising out into a nauseating yellow colour in the remaining mug.

'Uh...Hey, Eds?' He looked back up at the boy. Eddie turned back and frowned.

'What?'

'...I, urm...I'll hold the cup,' he smiled sweetly, catching up to Eddie in a few long strides.

 

\---------

 

Henry was snoring gently when Eddie cautiously opened his bedroom door, legs tangled in one of his blankets and mullet feathered out across his pillow. His open mouth was threatening to drip drool onto the cotton pillowcase. Richie had to stifle a laugh when he saw the bully.

'He looks even worse when he's out cold. I didn't know he could top his regular look but he's really outdone himself.' Eddie giggled, elbowing Richie in the ribs.

'Shut the fuck up, this is serious stuff.'

'Yeah...Go get your dignity back, Spaghetti,' Richie teased. Eddie rolled his eyes, approaching Henry's bedside. He knelt down and shook Henry's shoulder.

'Hey. Get up, Bowers. Rise and shine,' he cooed in a sing-song voice, making Richie chuckle behind him. Henry opened his eyes, groggy and confused. His face twisted into a scowl when he realised it was Eddie.

'Oh. It's you. Come to beg for my mercy, Wheezey?' He turned his attention to Richie, expression turning to disgust. 'And you came too, huh? What an unwanted surprise.' Richie smirked, winking at Henry casually to add to the boy's disgust.

'Bowers, I think last night we both said a lot of shit we didn't mean,' Eddie began, voice and expression both level and balanced. Henry turned back to him, mouth warping into a twisted smirk.  

'Did we?' He looked between the two of them once more and frowned in confusion. 'How did you two get in my fucking house?' Richie cleared his throat, adjusting his composure and putting on his most charming smile, presenting Henry the white mug.

'Eds knew you'd be hungover so I whipped this up before we came. Tozier family secret recipe.' Henry glared at Richie, immediate disbelief obvious on his face.

'What did you do, hock some phlegm up into it?' Henry scowled. Eddie's lips twisted into a smirk on their own volition. 'I'm not drinking that piss.'

Richie released an over dramatic sigh and turned to Eddie, pouting. 'I told you he wasn't man enough for my secret recipe...' Henry scoffed in disbelief, sitting up straight.

'Not man enough... You think I'm gonna give in just because you call me a pussy, fag?'  
Richie and Eddie exchanged victorious looks, in mutual agreement that they had pinned the asshole. Henry would never let anybody call him a pussy and walk away from it. Henry growled in frustration.

'Give me the cup, four-eyes.'

He shot to his feet and snatched the mug, throwing his head back as he choked down the contents in one go. His eyes blew wide as his head returned to a neutral position, trembling hand losing grip on the mug and letting it shatter on the floor. A dark blue tinted the boy's lips, streaks of the same blue tracking leisurely down his chin. He brought both hands to his throat, coughing desperately as a violent gurgling noise erupted from his stomach. His eyes rolled back into his head before snapping shut, his body staggering forwards a few steps. Eddie's mouth hung open in shocked horror as he watched the boy convulse and choke on his feet, the bully's entire body trembling as if he was being thrown around by an invisible force. Henry spluttered one final time, almost sounding like he was starting to cry.

'Wuh… Wheezy,' he choked out before falling forwards, head crashing hard into the door of his wardrobe. When he hit the floor, blood immediately started leaking from the fresh gash on his forehead, pooling around him and staining his dirty blonde hair to a deep red.

'...Oh _shit_ ,' Eddie managed, knees weak and palms sweating. 'Oh fuck...I just...Juh-just killed my best friend.'

'And your worst enemy,' Richie pointed out faintly, biting his lip as he watched the thick blood spread and sink into the rough carpet. Eddie glared at him in disbelief.

'Same difference!' He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. 'Oh my god...oh god… Fuck!'

Richie moved and hugged his strong arms around Eddie's waist. 'Hey...maybe you should take a seat, Eds. You look like you're gonna pass out.'

'How are you so calm about this?' Eddie whimpered, letting Richie guide him down to sit on the corner of the bed. 'This isn’t just about personal revenge anymore. We just killed the police chief's son! We're in so much shit...what do we do?'

Richie bit his lip, looking around the room for inspiration for a new plan. He clicked his tongue when the idea hit him, hesitant to share it and unsure of how Eddie would react. He looked back at Eddie, who had his face buried in the palms of his hands as his entire body trembled with sobs and a sick feeling of dread.

'Well, erm… Eds, what if this was a murder thing, y'know? Kids go missing in Derry all the time. We could...rough his body up a bit, stage a crime scene and dump his body in the quarry. That way no one will know it was us.'

Eddie looked up at him, eyes ringed with red and palms wet with tears. 'Richie, it's not that simple… these disappearances… there something wrong about them. Something not natural,' he looked down at his shaking hands and wiped his eyes with the back of one, mind focusing back on his dream from last night. 'Not long ago - when I was heading home from the trainyard past Neibolt - I got attacked. There was this… there was a-'

'A clown,' Richie finished for him, meeting Eddie's disbelief with cold sincerity. 'I've seen him too. Loads of kids have. But what should that matter? How will the grownups know whether it was Ronald McDonald or just some escaped loon?'

'I-I guess,' he sniffed, looking up at Richie with a frightened vulnerability. 'I don't want to go to prison, Richie...'

'Hey,' Richie frowned, softening slightly as he moved to comfort Eddie, arm falling across the boy's shoulders. 'You're not going to prison. Neither of us are. This'll work… And if you really don't want to be a part of it, I'll sort it out.'

Eddie sniffed, looking up at Richie with irresistibly wide eyes. 'You mean it?'

'I mean it,' Richie promised, planting a tender kiss on Eddie's tearstained cheek. 'I'll take care of the body… From what I remember, that clown had a thing for balloons, right?’

Eddie nodded slightly. 'He had a red one.' Richie nodded back in confirmation, reaching into his trouser pocket and supplying a pair of crumpled $5 bills.

'I will do the dirty work. Your job, my dear Spaghedward, is to get yourself down to the convenience store for some balloons and a little something of whatever makes you happy. Okay?'

Eddie smiled weakly, cheeks glistening from tears. 'Okay...Thank you, 'chee.'

'I love you, Eds.'

'Richie… Please don't call me Eds.'

 

\---------

 

By the next morning, the disappearance of Henry Bowers was common knowledge amongst the townspeople of Derry. It had become an unspoken truth amongst the adults that the Bowers boy had just been another unfortunate victim of the evil terrorising their town. They didn't have to talk, they didn’t want to talk.

The children on the other hand couldn't seem to drop the subject.

'Did you hear what happened to Bowers on Saturday?'

'Dude, it's so fucked up.'

'I heard that all his dad found was a disembodied leg on his bedroom floor. The rest? Gone.'

'No, you're wrong. I heard arm.'

'You're both wrong. He was decapitated. It was his head.'

'That's some creepy shit.'

'And there's still no signs of the rest of his body?'

'It's just gone. Like all the others.'

'Bowers was the last person I'd expect to go missing.'

'It's terrible.'

'It's terrifying.'

'It's not fair!' Victor complained, kicking at the door of his locker. 'It's so not fair. We deserve the whole day off. Not just a couple of hours. I mean, our best friend just went missing. Don’t we need time to grieve and shit?'

'Glad to see you have your priorities in order, Vic,' Eddie mumbled, sat hunched over on a bench beside Patrick. 'I mean, it's not like you’ll never see him again or anything. The time off, that’s the important thing. It’s not like anyone’s d-'

'He's not dead,' Victor insisted, cutting him off before he could say it and glancing over at Eddie. 'They just said he's missing.'

'Whatever helps you deal with it,' Eddie shrugged.

'Don't be a dick, Eddie,' Victor muttered, staring down at the floor between his feet.

'...'m sorry,' Eddie sighed, scratching the back of his head. 'I guess I'm just kind of fucked up right now about the whole thing.'

‘We both are,’ Victor sighed, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. He frowned when he felt his fingers brush hard plastic, taking out Eddie’s aspirator. He shook his head and held it out to Eddie. ‘Might as well hold onto this yourself… Just until he gets back.’

Eddie gave Vic a small smile of appreciation and took the medicine from him. ‘Thanks.’

Patrick was paying no attention to the world around him, staring thoughtfully at the locker straight ahead - Henry's locker. He slowly got to his feet and closed the space between the bench and the locker in a few careful steps, his glazed stare unwavering. He lifted a hand and started playing with the combination lock.

'Hey, that's Henry's locker,' Victor frowned, realising what Patrick was doing.

Eddie turned to where Vic was looking and watched the tall boy’s actions carefully. ‘Yeah, have some common decency, Hockstetter.’

Patrick ignored them, mimicking the combination he had watched Henry enter hundreds of times before he went missing. He pulled the locker open and started searching through Henry's abandoned possessions.

'Stop, Patrick. Henry's coming back. This isn't right,' Victor insisted, stumbling over himself as he tried to say something to make Patrick stop his violation of Henry’s privacy.

'Stop talking,' Patrick murmured, voice level and distant. He reached under Henry's threadbare social studies textbook and drew out a familiar silver switchblade. Victor grabbed at it and Patrick swiftly turned to him, expression blank yet piercing as he eyed the blonde.

'...Not that,' Victor pleaded in a small voice, Patrick’s stare making him lose all the strength he might have had as he grew increasingly uncomfortable. 'That's important to him. His old man will kill him if he loses it, remember?'  
'Then you hang on to it,' Patrick replied calmly. ‘You’ll get more use out of it from what I can tell.’

Victor dropped his gaze toward the floor and swallowed a lump forming in his throat. 'Patrick, why are you going through his stuff?'

'Henry Bowers is dead. Power has… shifted,’ Patrick mused thoughtfully, turning back to the locker and staring down at the knife in the palm of his hand.

'What the fuck do you mean power has shifted? We don’t work like that,' Victor lied through his teeth, hope of Patrick relenting quickly fading away.

'I’m going to replace Henry Bowers,’ Patrick smiled faintly as if he were talking to himself.

Eddie's head shot up immediately. 'Replace Henry Bowers?'

Patrick pushed the knife into Victor's hands without turning back to look at him. 'As I said, you can hang on to this. Playing with knives can be… productive.'

'You can't replace our friend if he's not dead,' Victor scowled, slipping the knife into his pocket. ‘I’m giving this back to Henry as soon as he comes back.’

'Shut up, Victor.'

Eddie looked up at Victor and felt a pang of guilt deep in his stomach. Victor had put on a tough expression but Eddie could tell it was a weak one. It hadn’t crossed his mind that the rest of the Bowers gang could actually care about Henry - he had always assumed that they were victims like him. However looking up at Victor Criss, Eddie didn’t see a bully. He saw a child that had just lost his best friend, terrified and vulnerable.

Victor stared down at his combat boots and sighed, unable to argue any longer. ‘Whatever… Sorry, Patrick.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter shouldn't take as long as this one did (hopefully).
> 
> Comments give me life ;u;


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